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vimeddiart · 3 years

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Strangers

Patron-voted fic of my D&D beeflings! Read the previous comic and the first comic for this series for context!

On AO3

Clang.

The zinging cadence of his hammer hitting a new blade usually tempers his fraught emotions and lessens their intensity. The rhythm and beat usually calms him, the heat of the furnace and the steady drip of sweat as well. Except his heart thunders on and his breathing remains irregular and his eyes sting—not from stray embers or errant drops of perspiration—and his agitation grows.

It grows so powerfully that he miscalculates and swings his hammer much too harshly, breaking the blade he was trying to fashion which frustrates him further and he throws down his tools with a clatter, pressing the gloved heels of his hands to his brow.

Lazlo.

Tuhka releases a trembling breath.

Barely a day had passed since he had regurgitated all of the regret and agony of his childhood friend’s death right into said friend’s face before gracelessly fleeing, the bitter taste of tears still on his tongue and Lazlo’s look of resounding disbelief haunting him even here in the safety of his forge.

It wasn’t fair.

Why must he have been forced to carry the burden of grief and guilt for so many years? All those moments of remembrance, thinking of a friend—the only one he ever had— ripped away from the world much too soon, endless nights of pain and suffering, wishing he’d been taken instead...and for what? Lazlo was alive. Had been for perhaps as long as Tuhka had grieved his loss.

How much hatred—or worse, indifference—must Lazlo have harboured to fail in seeking Tuhka out...to reassure him, to reunite with him, to talk with him. They had been family.

Tuhka wrenches off his gloves and tosses them to the side, stalking towards the entrance of his smithy for some air, unable to concentrate anymore on his craft. His hands shake when he grasps the wrought iron gate.

A sound distracts him for a moment, one that carries over on the salty evening breeze that cools the sweat of his brow. Gravel crushed underfoot. It’s gone in an instant and even with his sharp hearing, Tuhka strains to listen for something further, ears swivelling in the hopes to catch it.

It doesn’t take too much investigation to track down the source of the sound once he decides to; a dark figure perched somewhat dejectedly on a boulder that offsets a scenic cliffside path Tuhka often takes to clear his head.

“You didn’t waste your grief, if that’s what you’re bothered about,” the figure says.

Tuhka’s breath leaves him in a rush as he’s met with a familiar blue gaze. He feels pulled forward by some invisible thread and settles himself on the far edge of the same boulder, leaving a bit of distance between them.

Lazlo sighs, drops his head into his hands. “When you left that day and never came back, I...believed you’d abandoned me, that you’d made good on your promise—”

“That was a child’s threat, I never meant to—” Tuhka began, needing to explain despite the betrayal he felt, still very fresh, that had upended years of mourning.

The other tiefling shook his head, dropping his hands away from his face and letting them fall to his lap. “I made a terrible decision, I paid for it,” the spectral left hand twitches and Tuhka notices it properly for the first time, heart squeezing despite everything and mind filling with more questions, “and I...went away for a long time. I didn’t think to look for you...I thought you despised me.”

He releases a mirthless laugh. “I don’t think I would’ve found you anyway. I’d have been looking for someone...quite different.”

Tuhka swallows hard. “I’ve...probably grown a bit since you last saw me.”

This startles a small, but real, laugh out of Lazlo, even if it does sound a little wet.

After a pause, Tuhka gathers strength from the stars and attempts to keep his voice steady. “That day...I went back for you. I did. I wasn’t going to, I was about to start a new life away from those bloody mines and I was so angry with you that I hoped you would stew in them forever...but then I remembered you wanted to get out just as desperately as I did and we swore to do it together so I went back to fetch you.”

Tuhka didn’t dare raise his eyes to Lazlo’s face, staring intently at his own hands grasping his knees even though the image was beginning to waver and blur.

“It was snowing and freezing and I walked through it without stopping, thinking that I would see you soon and whisk us away to a better place, until I saw the smoke from over the hill and I knew you’d gone ahead with our plan without me,” Tuhka let out a shuddering breath, “they said you got crushed in the tunnel along with that bastard foreman. Don’t remember much of what happened after that...just that I’d gone to fetch you and came back empty-handed.”

Tears flowed freely, despite previously believing he had run out of tears to shed. From the corner of his eye he noticed Lazlo wipe his face with a pure, white square of cloth.

“Told you the truth though…” Tuhka continued, after a none-too-discreet sniff, “mourned you like a piece of me had died. Couldn’t think of much else for a good few years,” He runs a forearm over his face roughly and finally turns to Lazlo, raw and exposed, “I would’ve looked for you in a heartbeat if I’d known you were alive. I would’ve.”

Lazlo lets out a sound like an animal in pain, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks that he no longer tries to wipe away. “I didn’t know...I didn’t know— I mucked up my plan and ending up losing everything, I— I was trapped for years without knowing how much time passed, I was...I was isolated from the outside in a way you won’t be able to understand but you must believe me, I never wanted to lose you—”

That final crack in Lazlo’s voice is what forces Tuhka to move closer and wrap an arm around his shoulders, mumbling soothing words until the sobs that wrack Lazlo’s frame subside. It reminds him of when he was younger—and much smaller—when Lazlo would do the same for him after a tumble, a run in with the awful foreman, or when overcome with a sadness he couldn’t understand, much less explain. Lazlo would have been there to comfort him, always.

As if hearing his thoughts, Lazlo lets out a tremulous sigh. “...Tables have turned, hm?”

Tuhka makes a tentatively amused sound in response. There is a whirlwind of emotion to wade through, but he can take this moment just to experience how real and solid Lazlo is. That he’s back.

“A right pair of bellends we turned out to be,” he ends up saying.

“Quite.” Lazlo sniffs, but there’s a small, albeit watery, smile on his lips as he straightens out of Tuhka’s one-armed embrace, and Tuhka tries not to let the empty feeling that remains affect him too much.

Something that has been niggling in the back of Tuhka’s mind takes on more force and the reason finally dawns on him.

“You sound different.”

Lazlo finishes wiping his face with a fresh, white handkerchief and makes a noise, muffled by the fabric.

“Yes, ah...I trained out the accent I used to have and replaced it with a new one.”

Tuhka blinks. “What’s wrong with your old accent? That’s the accent I have! I got it from you!”

“I needed to, ah...move in higher circles of society and I couldn’t very well sound like a common miner, could I?”

Tuhka opens his mouth to argue, a nostalgia for their juvenile arguments filling him in a split second, but Lazlo interrupts, “You know, we don’t have to speak Common if you’d prefer.”

They fall back on Infernal so naturally that Tuhka has to swallow a lump in his throat and keep the waver out of his voice. He never thought he would have this again. He’s a little rusty and out of practice but that doesn’t seem to matter in the moment—it’s like they’re back in the mines, speaking their language out of earshot of the foreman, making plans for the future in a world that was all dreams.

Tuhka tells Lazlo how he adopted Ooria (and not the other way round as she claimed to recall) and how she had helped him find his true self. He tells him about his work, his smithy and how he made a home on this cliff by the ocean. He doesn’t talk about the painful things, like crying himself to sleep every night for years from missing him, or the search for his adoptive mother who was now lost.

Lazlo talks about— what Tuhka suspects is— superficial milestones, his expertise in identifying gemstones, the places he’s visited and the night skies he has lain under and commemorated on his skin. Tuhka notices the glittering constellations peeking out of Lazlo’s clothes and his heart thumps, wanting to ask what made them special enough to wear permanently but he stops himself...still feeling like a stranger. There’s an undercurrent of darkness in Lazlo’s vague statements, of secrets untold, and Tuhka is slightly surprised by a keen disappointment that bubbles within him at not being trusted with them.

There’s a lull in conversation, an impending finality that Tuhka does not appreciate. He refuses to remain a stranger as well, which prompts him to realise that he hasn’t even properly introduced himself yet.

Feeling bold, he holds a hand out in the human way. “Tuhka Turunen.”

Lazlo’s gaze lands on the proffered hand and then flickers up to Tuhka’s face, seeming to weigh his options. He breathes out a laugh and leans forward, ignoring the hand to press his forehead slowly but firmly against Tuhka’s in customary tiefling fashion. An echo of the greeting they shared when they first met as children.

“Lazarus Astrophel,” whispers the tiefling formerly known as Lazlo.

Tuhka smiles. “Nice to meet you, Lazarus.”

They part and Lazlo—Lazarus—clears his throat, “My close acquaintances sometimes call me Laz. You may do so, after all we’re—” a beat of hesitation, “—old friends.”

His vibrant blue eyes are on Tuhka, almost as if expecting him to disagree. Tuhka doesn’t.

“Laz,” he says, smiling, “lot less likely to get mixed up with that.”

The sea breeze sighs around them, ruffling hair and clothing. Tuhka watches as Lazarus gets to his feet.

“It’s late. I should be going.”

Panic flickers through Tuhka. “You’re leaving?”

“I have business in town for a day or two, I’m staying at an inn there...The King’s Cushion?”

Tuhka nods, recognising the name. He gets to his feet as well, unintentionally towering over Lazarus.

“Stars...I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to that.” Lazarus grimaces.

“You’re welcome to visit,” Tuhka blurts out, trying to keep any semblance of desperation out of his voice and getting the impression that he failed, “you wanted to commission something, we can talk about that whenever you like.”

After a moment of confusion, Lazarus’ expression clears. “Ah, right, yes, that was what got us into this mess in the first place, wasn’t it? Yes,” he smiles, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

This time when he leaves, it’s with a lot less anger than moments after their first confrontation only days ago, and with a promise to come back. They had once shared everything, even their deepest desires. Now, after fifteen years apart, they’ve become completely different people—the fact that Lazarus came here, willing to talk, making promises to return even if there’s a chance he may not keep them...it’s a start. And that will have to be enough for now.

Tuhka sits back down once Lazarus has vanished from sight down the path and gazes up at the same stars he had begged night after night to return his best friend to him.

He thanks them for listening.

#d&d #tuhka turunen #lazarus astrophel #ash & salt #mine #almost forgot to post this

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starshine583 · 4 years

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New Girl on the Block (3)

(Hey guys! finally got around to posting chapter three of this! There’s a second, mini series connected to this that’s called Journal Entries. You don’t have to read it to understand the plot, but I felt like it would be fun to write so enjoy it if you like!)

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 4

Chapter 3: There’s a First Time for Everything

Adrien tapped his pencil against his notebook paper and nestled his cheek into his open palm with a sigh. It’s been a little over a week since Marinette exchanged schools, and he’s yet to talk with her about it. He tried visiting her the day Ms. Bustier informed them of the transfer, but Marinette wasn’t home. Naturally, he tried again the next day and actually managed to catch her, but then she ran off. Ran off! Adrien still couldn’t believe it. Why would she run from him?

“Dude, you okay?” Nino asked, giving him a light nudge.

Adrien straightened slightly. “Ah, yeah, just.. Just thinking.”

Alya scoffed behind him. “Don’t tell me you’re still moping about Marinette.”

Needless to say, the class didn’t exactly share Adrien’s sentiment about Marinette’s leaving. With all of Lila’s stories circling around, they were overjoyed that the “bully” was gone. Alya was low-key furious, ranting about “injustices” and “letting Marinette run from the consequences of her actions”, but other than that, everyone was pleased with the outcome.

Everyone except Adrien.

Adrien knew better. The class may think that they’re better off without the bluenette, but he knew for certain that they were all going to drown without her. Marinette organized the budgets, supplied the goods for bake sales, signed off all of the paperwork for their trips- she even made dresses for the girls on special occasions. They needed her. That’s why he had to get her back. If only he could find time out of his packed schedule to visit her again..

“Alright, everyone, settle down.” Ms. Bustier spoke up. “The results for the new class president are in.”

Adrien sunk further into his seat. Ah, yes. The new class president, another reason Marinette should have stayed. With her gone, they had to make an impromptu election. Chloe, of course, ran again, but Lila decided to run as well. With the class’ obvious loyalty towards Lila, it’s a wonder Ms. Bustier didn’t announce the brunette as the president right there and save everyone the trouble.

Ms. Bustier pulled out a small card with the results and cleared her throat. “With a near-unanimous vote, the new class president will be Lila Rossi.”

The class cheered, and Lila gasped as if she hadn’t expected this to happen.

“Thank you all so much!” She beamed.

Alya slung her arm around Lila’s shoulders. “You deserve it, girl.”

Chloe scoffed from her seat and crossed her arms, but no one acknowledged the show of disdain. They were too busy congratulating their beloved Lila.

“Congratulations Lila. You can visit Marinette after school to get the paperwork from her.” Ms. Bustier said, setting her cards aside.

Adrien straightened. Someone had to go visit Marinette? “I’ll do it!”

The classroom paused at the outburst.

“Oh, Adrien you don’t have to do that for me.” Lila remarked with a grateful tone.

“Oh, no, it’s my pleasure.” Adrien was quick to reply.

A hint of annoyance flicked across Lila’s features, but it quickly vanished when Alya said, “Yeah, Lila, you shouldn’t have to suffer through that.”

A smile forced its way onto the Italian girl’s lips. “Thanks, but I think it’s only right that I meet with her in person. Class president to Class president and all.”

Alya frowned. “Well, at least let me go with you. I don’t want her trying to pull anything.”

“Oh, Alya,” Lila sighed, patting the red-head’s hand, “It’s just a small visit. I’m sure Marinette and I can be civil about this.”

Alya reluctantly agreed, but if anyone had actually been paying attention, they might have seen Lila’s smirk.

~~~~~~

The soft rhythm of Felix and Allegra’s instruments floated around the music room as they played. Marinette never imagined the violin and the flute sounding well together, but the way Felix and Allegra harmonized had her swaying back and forth with the melody. It was a lovely song, and she couldn’t help closing her eyes to fully relish the masterpiece.

Her eyes snapped open a second later, though, as her entire body jolted from the large calamity of piano keys that was suddenly pounded on by Claude. Felix startled as well, his violin flying off key, and Allegra nearly dropped her flute.

“Again, Claude?” Allegra sighed, placing her hands on her hips.

Claude leaned back on the piano stool with his palms and flashed them an innocent smile. “What? I was only helping.”

Marinette held back a smile, but Felix wasn’t amused.

“I told you to stop doing that.” He scolded with a scowl. “You’re going to get our music room privileges revoked!”

“Good. You guys practice too much, anyway.”

Allegra gave Claude a flat look. “We need to practice if we’re going to get better.”

“But you already sound great.”

“Because we practice.” Felix replied pointedly.

Marinette subtly nodded in agreement. She didn’t want to get directly involved in their arguments, as that never seemed to go well.

Claude huffed a sigh and rolled his eyes. “Fine. Whatever. Waste your time on endless practice. I’m gonna do something more productive with my time.”

Felix narrowed his eyes. “Like what?”

Claude turned to lay across the piano bench while throwing Marinette a smile. “Like making croissants! We’re still coming to your house, right?”

Marinette returned his smile, secretly relieved that he didn’t ask her to do something outrageous like going to chase pigeons around the park while on roller blades. (Yes, that’s happened several times in the past week, and yes, each time she’s said no.)

“Yeah, but you guys are coming over tomorrow.” She told him.

He pumped a fist into the air. “Yes! I can’t wait!!”

“Neither can I.” Allegra admitted. “Your parents sound splendid.”

Marinette’s smile widened. “I’m sure you’ll all get along great.”

“Yes, I’m sure.. If we can practice enough to go straight to your house after classes tomorrow.” Felix remarked, shooting Claude another look.

Claude tisked, waving a hand at him. “Yeah, yeah. Get back to your music already.”

Allegra gave a short laugh, sarcastically stating, “Oh, thank you so much. I was wondering when you would give us permission to play.”

“I know, I’m such a generous person.” Claude joked back.

Allegra playfully rolled her eyes and held up her flute to resume playing. Felix followed along, and Marinette went back to swaying as their song continued.

The familiar ring of the customer bell brought a smile to Marinette’s lips as she opened the bakery door.

Her mother, Sabine, looked up from the cashier desk with a warm smile. “Marinette! How was music practice?”

“It was wonderful, Maman. Felix and Allegra play beautifully.” Marinette answered as she walked inside. She set her bag next to the counter and gave her mother a quick peck on the cheek. “Is everything ready for them to come over tomorrow?”

Sabine nodded. “Tom’s got the ingredients and tables ready for when they get here. He’s so excited to meet them, and so am I.”

Marinette chuckled. “They’re excited to meet you guys too.”

Sabine’s smile widened at the comment, but then her expression darkened as she said, “Hopefully they’re not two-faced and backstabbing like your previous classmates.”

Marinette gasped. “Mom!”

“Well, it’s true!” Sabine replied defensively.

It was true, but that didn’t mean Marinette was any less surprised to hear her maman talk that way. Of course, Sabine did tend to speak her mind when Marinette’s feelings were involved.

Before she could respond, the doorbell rang again, signaling a new customer’s arrival. Marinette turned with her mother to offer them a greeting, but stopped short when she saw exactly who the new customer was.

Lila Rossi stood in the doorway, a smug smirk on her lips as she eyed Marinette up and down. “I see you’re doing well.”

Sabine was in front of Marinette in the blink of an eye. “You are not welcome in this bakery. Leave immediately before I call the cops.”

A look of feigned hurt crossed the Italian girl’s expression. “How rude! I only came here per Mme Bustier’s request. I have to get the formal papers from our previous class president.”

Marinette narrowed her eyes, stepping around Sabine with crossed arms. “I suppose you’re the new class president then?”

Lila’s smile returned, sharp and triumphant. “By a near-unanimous vote. Alya is still the deputy though, since she practically begged me to let her help.”

Marinette’s lips tightened into a thin line. That sounded about right. “How nice for you. You two really do deserve each other.”

When Lila first came around, Marinette had been torn and heartbroken about her friends abandoning her for a stranger. It didn’t help that Adrien kept assuring her that everything would be fine, that they didn’t mean what they said. He gave her false hope, and it made it all the harder to find the courage to leave.

Now, she’s realized how toxic her old environment had become, and though it still hurt her to think about it, Marinette knew she couldn’t let them affect her anymore.

Lila faltered at Marinette’s uncaring tone. “Uh.. right. Where are those papers again?”

“Up in my room.” Marinette moved towards the stairs, bringing Sabine back behind the counter as she did. “I’ll go get them now.”

“Good.” Lila said, sounding satisfied. “I’ll be waiting outside, but don’t take your time. I’m supposed to go meet Alya and the girls for a girl’s night out.”

Marinette rolled her eyes at the obvious jab, but continued up the stairs anyway. The sooner she got the papers, the sooner that lying leech could leave.

She swiftly ran up to her room and gathered the papers to stuff them into the large, blue binder she’d been given only two semesters ago. It sunk into her arms as she picked it up, and the sheer weight of the packed binder made her smile as she brought it back outside, especially when she saw Lila’s panicked expression.

“Um.. What is that?” The brunette asked, pointed at the binder.

“Oh, this?” Marinette replied innocently. “This is just the binder that holds all the formal papers you need. Being class president takes a lot of work you know.”

Lila nearly toppled over when Marinette dropped the binder into her arms.

“That’s allergies, budgets, complaints, schedules, and trips!” Marinette told her with a grin. “But don’t forget to give Mme Bustier and Principle Damocles the proper reports each semester.”

Lila shot her a scowl, but quickly recovered, slipping on a smile of her own. “No need to be petty, Marinette. It’s fine to admit you’re breaking inside. Losing all your friends can be a hard thing to go through.”

Marinette’s grin faded slightly, knowing that Lila was right. She’d lost everything. All of her childhood friends, her crush, her fun teachers, anything she used to hold dear.

But maybe that was a good thing.

“Have fun sorting through the binder.” She said, spinning on her heel and walking inside. She had better things to do than listen to someone who had to lie just to get people to like them.

The bakery door closed behind her, and Marinette saw Lila leave out of the corner of her eye, taking the painful memories with her.

~~~~~~

Friday afternoon. 4:45pm.

Felix stared at the bakery door, unsure how to proceed. The group had originally agreed to walk straight to Marinette’s house after school, but they changed the plan last minute to come back at five, an hour after school ended. It gave Marinette’s parents time to finish up the preparations, and the rest of the group time to drop off their school bags at their homes.

Felix, as usual, arrived at the Dupain-Cheng’s early, but now he was doubting his actions. On one hand, he would get to meet the Dupain-Cheng’s without the chaos that the trio tended to bring. It would be a nice way for him to get a quick impression of the family over-all.

On the other hand, he’s at Marinette’s house before the time she specifically told them to come, which could be considered rude in some cases. Should he go inside or wait in a nearby cafe?

After a few more minutes of debating, Felix stepped forward and knocked on the door. If they really needed him to wait until five, he would apologize and come back in ten minutes. The opportunity to meet the Dupain-Cheng’s on a one-on-one basis was too good to pass up.

It only took a moment for the door to open, and a short, asain woman greeted him with a sweet smile. “Hello! I’m assuming you’re one of Marinette’s friends from school?”

Felix nodded, noting her raven hair that matched Marinette’s perfectly. “Yes, ma’am. I’m Felix.”

He stiffened slightly when she reached forward to take his hand in both of hers. “It’s great to finally meet you! Marinette has told us so much about you all.”

A small smile passed his lips. For some reason, that knowledge gave him a satisfied feeling. Assuming that the talk was good, that is. “She’s talked a lot about you as well. I’m assuming you’re Mme Dupain-Cheng?”

The woman waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, please, call me Sabine.”

‘Sabine’ showed him inside, where baked goods lined the walls in glass cases. Claude was going to lose his mind when he got here. The overwhelming scent of vanilla and cinnamon alone was going to be enough to make the brunette’s mouth water.

“This is my husband, Tom.” Sabine introduced, gesturing to a tall, burly man at the cashier desk. “Tom, this is one of Marinette’s friends, Felix.”

Felix would be lying if he said he wasn’t intimidated by the man. His head almost grazed the ceiling as he approached them, making Sabine look like a dwarf in comparison. Felix felt like a dwarf in comparison.

Tom offered a wide, hearty grin, though that didn’t help Felix’s unease. “Ah, Felix! It’s a pleasure to finally meet you!”

The man scooped Felix up into a bear hug, squeezing him tightly to his chest. Felix would have replied to his greeting had he been able to breathe.

“Oh, Papa!”

Felix glanced over Tom’s shoulder- he’d been raised that high -and saw Marinette standing in another doorway behind the cashier counter, a slight cringe in her expression.

“Papa, put poor Felix down before he passes out from lack of oxygen!” She insisted, walking forward to tug on her father’s arm.

“Oh that’s.. That’s a bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think?” Felix wheezed as Tom set him down.

Marinette’s hands hovered around him for a moment, then she nervously clasped them together. “I-I’m so sorry, I should have warned you. I thought I was going to be down here when you guys arrived.”

Felix shook his head and bent over slightly to catch his breath. “No, no, you’re fine. They actually remind me of my own mother. She’s a rather adamant hugger herself.”

A relieved smile came to Marinette’s lips. “Really? I didn’t think anyone could be as ‘homely’ as my parents.”

Felix chuckled, but the customer bell jingled again before he could reply. Claude sauntered inside a second later, his arms spread as wide as his grin.

“We’re here~!” The brunette sang, looking around the shop. His gaze found Felix’s flat one almost immediately.

“Hey!” Claude gasped, pointing accusingly at Felix. “He beat us here!”

Allegra stepped out from behind Claude, wearing a curious expression. That quickly changed to knowing smirk, though, as she shot him a playfully scolding look. “Why, Felix! I’m surprised at you! You should know more than anyone how rude it is to arrive at someone’s house early.”

Felix grimaced at the reminder of his bad manners and quickly turned to apologize.

“Oh don’t be silly!” Sabine said before he could get a word out. “Any friends of Marinette are friends of ours. You guys are welcome here anytime.”

Claude lit up at the sentiment. “I’m gonna be here a lot then.”

Allan popped out from behind Claude and Allegra. “Thank you for hosting us, M. and Mme Dupain-Cheng.”

Felix held back a smirk. He’d wondered when Allan would show himself.

“Please, call us Tom and Sabine.” Tom replied in a casual, yet booming voice. It highly contradicted his wife and daughter, who tended to speak in soft tones. “Follow me. I’ll show you where the kitchen is.”

The group was led into a room in the back where three islands stood in the center, each equally parted from each other. A large counter lined the wall to the left as well, and two, large ovens sat on each end of said counter.

“Do you guys want to start from scratch or start with pre-made dough?” Tom asked.

“Oh! Scratch! I want to be able to make these at home!” Claude answered eagerly.

Tom smiled. “Alright! Scratch it is. Everyone take the needed ingredients on the counter.”

The group took a moment to pass around the items, then they separated to find a counter. Allan took the first counter with Tom, and Allegra and Claude stole the last counter, leaving the middle counter for Marinette and Felix.

“I’m glad you guys got to come.” Marinette commented as they aligned their ingredients on the shared countertop.

Felix nodded. “I think Claude’s going to get a sugar-crash before we leave.”

Marinette snorted. “With all of those baked goods in the other room? I’d be surprised if he makes it to supper.”

Felix spared her a glance. “Are we staying for supper?”

Marinette paused, having to think out her answer. She must not have noticed the implication when she said it. “Uh.. I mean.. I wouldn’t mind. Do you guys want to stay for supper?”

Felix shrugged, though the idea sounded perfect. It would give him more time to understand the Dupain-Cheng’s lifestyle. “I’m sure Allegra and Claude will be ecstatic over the news. I’d have to contact my mother about the change in schedule, though.”

“Oh, were you planning something with her tonight?” Marinette asked, worry lacing her tone. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

“No, I want to.” Felix hastily amended. “I simply need to tell my mother that I won’t be home for supper tonight. We always have a family dinner when everyone is available.”

“And you won’t miss it?”

“Well, it sounds like it’s a special occasion, but everyone’s available more often than you’d expect.”

Marinette tilted her head up and mouthed an ‘oh’. “I’ll tell Maman that you’re staying, then. She was sort of planning supper for all of you anyway.”

Felix smiled. Given the daily croissants that the group’s received since their first lunch with Marinette, that didn’t surprise him. Mme Sabine had proven to be an extremely kind and charitable person, much like her daughter.

Tom, once his own ingredients were in order, regained the room’s attention and began showing them how to make the croissants. Because he was in the front, it was easy to see how the ingredients were supposed to be thrown in and follow along. That said, Felix found himself extremely grateful to have Marinette as a partner. Her little tips on how to mix the dough helped him immensely, especially since she told him when his mixing was sufficient.

“Alright,” Tom sighed as he set his bowl to the side, “Now that the dough is done, we’re going to start the hard part. Everyone needs to get some flour so we can start rolling the dough and folding it. Marinette, if you would.”

Marinette sprang from her place next to Felix and crossed the room to a cabinet. She pulled it open and grabbed a large bag of flour that appeared to be at least a fourth full, then carried it to the long counter against the wall and set it down with a huff.

“Here’s the flour that you all are going to be using.” Tom explained. “That should be plenty, but if you need more-”

A light knock on the doorframe ahead of them caused Tom to trail off. Felix glanced at the door to see Mme Sabine standing there, holding a sheepish smile.

“Tom, dear. I know you’re busy, but could you help me with this customer real quick?” She asked politely. “They’re being.. difficult.”

Felix noted the sharpness of her smile, along with the iron grip she had on the doorframe. It appeared that the sweet, loving mother also had a temperance, though he didn’t blame her. Customers had a tendency to be massive pains for retail workers. (That included himself on a few shameful occasions.)

M. Tom’s nervous smile said it all as he joined his wife at the door. “Oh, of course. Uh.. children, just- just keep doing what you’re doing. Marinette will show you how to roll the dough if necessary.”

The parents left the room, causing the rest of the group to turn to Marinette for instruction.

Marinette, who had returned to Felix’s side by that point, shrank slightly at the sudden attention. “Oh, uhm.. Do any of you know how to fold dough?”

A short laugh came from Allegra in the back. “Mari, I’m quite certain that none of us have even touched uncooked food before.”

“That’s the price you pay for being rich.” Allan agreed, putting a hand to his chest and shaking his head with feigned grief.

Felix opted not to comment. His mother rather enjoyed cooking, much to their butler’s dismay. She often cooked their family meals, and every now and then, Felix found himself helping. “It’s a necessary skill.” she would tell him. “Your future wife will thank me and so will you.”

Why his mother assumed he would be able to tolerate anyone long enough to marry them was beyond him.

“Oh, how horrible for you.” Marinette retorted with a playful eye roll. “I guess I’ll show you how to fold dough then. For your sakes.”

“We are forever grateful.” Claude joked.

Marinette laughed and scooped up her bowl, bringing it to the front with Allan for all of them to see.

“Now, everyone needs to get some flour. We’ll start with Claude and Allegra getting some. That way, the flour will work its way to the front by the time we’re done.” She instructed.

Felix nodded. That sounded like a reasonable plan.

Claude walked over to grab the bag as told and hauled it back to his and Allegra’s table. “How much are we going to need?”

“Oh, not much.” Marinette answered. “You only need some on the table and some on the dou- Claude, wait!”

Claude tipped the bag of flour upwards, expecting it to slide smoothly onto the table. Instead, the flimsy ingredient smacked into the table in a large clump, causing white dust to explode into the air. Felix scrunched up his nose in annoyance. How were they supposed to mix that? How easily did it spread? He knew he should have worn something less formal. (Oh, who was he kidding? Felix didn’t have anything less formal.)

An apologetic whimper came from Marinette, as if any of this was her fault. Claude and Allegra quickly fell into a coughing fit as Claude dropped the flour bag onto the ground. Of course, dropping the bag only threw more dust into the air.

The two attempted to wave the dust away, but it only partly worked. When the dust did finally clear, though, Claude and Allegra were left with a small pile of flour on their table. The rest of the flour was either in the air or draped across their clothes and hair.

“Wow.” Felix stated dryly. “I’m impressed. You actually managed to wait until M. Tom left before making a complete mess of yourselves and the room.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it u-” Claude’s retort was cut off by another coughing fit, but Allegra continued it for him.

“I don’t see you rolling out your dough in a perfectly clean and pristine manner.”

“That’s because you used up the rest of the flour.” Felix shot back.

Marinette gasped. “Is it really all gone?”

Claude and Allegra, suddenly dawning a sheepish expression, looked down at the bag that was still on the floor. Claude reached down to pick it up, but, as if the situation weren’t bad enough already, he grabbed the wrong end and pulled it up upside down.

The last bits of flour trickled to the floor, spreading across the brunette’s legs.

“...Yeah. It’s all-” He let out another cough “-gone.”

Allan’s eyes widened, a mixture of admiration and mortification swirling onto his features. “How did you waste an entire bag of flour on one spill?”

“You’d be surprised.” Marinette muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“We can reimburse you.” Allegra was quick to offer. “How much did the flour cost? Do you take checks?”

A light chuckle fell from Marinette’s lips. “No, no, that’s not necessary. I’ve.. actually done worse.”

Claude’s eyes bulged out of his head. “You’ve done worse?”

Felix thought over the many falls that Marinette had had over the past week. Her clumsiness certainly made it possible to have more extreme accidents.

“What do we do now that the flour is gone?” He asked, trying to get the group back on track. The sooner they finished baking the croissants, the sooner he could examine the rest of Marinette’s house instead of sitting in the kitchen. The Dupain-Chengs appeared to be a lively, fun-loving family, but he’d only gotten a small taste of their life, only seen the tip of the iceberg. Felix wanted to absorb as many details as possible before leaving.

Marinette straightened. “Oh! There’s actually more flour in the back! I’ll go get it.”

Before Felix could offer any assistance- his curiosity piqued about where they might store more food -the ravenette had already left the room, disappearing through another doorway in the back.

A moment later, she returned, another large bag of flour in her hands. This time, however, the bag was full. Felix vaguely wondered how heavy the bags must weigh for her to be wobbling over with one so easily. Wasn’t flour supposed to be heavy?

“Here’s a fresh bag of flo-ou-ah!” Marinette’s words jumbled into jargon when her foot caught on her ankle. Her body lunged forward from the momentum, and Felix stepped up to catch her on reflex.

Bad idea.

Due to the weight of the flour bag yanking her downwards, Marinette crashed into Felix’s and dragged him to the floor with her. His back hit the floor with a painful *thud*, immediately sucking all of the air from his lungs.

Of course, the flour bag popped open upon impact, sending more white dust directly into his face. Between the weight of Marinette and the flour, along with his aching lungs and the suffocating dust, Felix was convinced that he was about to die right then and there on the bakery floor.

Felix Culpa: tragically taken from this world by a bag of flour and a clumsy classmate. What a way to go.

“Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, Felix. Are you okay??” Marinette asked frantically, pushing herself off of him.

Felix coughed out a weak response with what little oxygen he had. Even without Marinette, the flour bag pressed into his chest like a block of concrete. How had she been carrying this without breaking a sweat earlier?

Marinette hauled the bag off of him, and Felix sucked in a deep breath despite the flour still cluttering the atmosphere. All he needed right now was some sweet, blessed air. Infected or no.

It wasn’t until he regained enough of his senses to push himself up into a sitting position that he heard Claude’s howling laughter.

“Oh, man!” The brunette cackled. “And you thought we were bad! Look at you, Fe! You’re a ghost!”

Felix glanced down at his clothes, which were indeed covered in white. He could even feel the weight of the flour in his hair. How long was this going to take to wash out? Was he going to have to buy new clothes before going home?

A snort brought his gaze upwards, where Marinette stood with the bag of flour. She had a hand on her mouth- holding the bag of flour with one hand -and a barely contained smile on her lips that she was obviously trying to hide.

That’s when Felix knew that he must be looking ridiculous.

“At least I wasn’t the one to cause the mess.” Felix grumbled in response to Claude. He reached up to start brushing some of the flour out of his hair, finding a bit of comfort in the fact that Marinette was white with flour as well. It might have been irksome if she had escaped her fall unscathed while he appeared to be a freshly made snowman.

“I am. So sorry.” Marinette apologized again, this time offering him her hand to help him up.

Felix took it, his bafflement towards her uncanny amount of strength only growing as she managed to pull him up with one arm and keep the bag of flour steady in her other arm.

“It’s..” not your fault. Was what he was about to say, except that would be a lie. It was entirely her fault.

“It’s fine.” He said instead. “It’s just clothes.”

“Wow~” Allegra sang, immediately latching onto Felix’s nerves. “‘It’s just clothes’? That’s a first.”

“Remember that time Felix threatened to sue us for enough money to buy a new wardrobe if we ‘got so much as one drop of food on his vest’?” Allan chimed in.

Embarrassment coiled around Felix’s stomach, though he wasn’t sure why. That designer outfit was expensive! And the trio was acting especially chaotic that day. Who knows what might have happened had he not put his foot down when they started joking about a food fight.

Felix whipped around to Allan to explain that exact reasoning, but something caught his attention, causing him to pause. Allan was still at the front of the room, the farthest position from the chaos that had just ensued. Aside from the stray dust still fluttering around the room, the man was completely untouched as far as flour was concerned.

“Marinette,” He said, catching the girl’s eye, “I do believe that Allan hasn’t gotten his flour yet.”

Marinette’s gaze flicked to Allan, then to the bag, and Felix prayed that he assessed her correctly. Because if Allan didn’t get flour on him this instant, Felix might be tempted to do something foolish. Like attempting to throw a bag of flour that was, without a doubt, too heavy for him to even lift on his own.

The barest hints of amusement lit up Marinette’s features. “You know what? I think you’re right.”

Felix smiled, feeling a devilish satisfaction. Yes!

Allan took a step back, suddenly looking very concerned.

“Woah, w-wait a second, guys.” He squeaked, holding up his hands as Marinette inched forward. “L-Let’s talk about this!”

“One of us. One of us.” Claude began chanting behind them. “One of us! One of us!”

Allegra joined in, and, in the spirit of things, Felix joined in as well, if only to push Marinette further towards his goal.

Allan bumped into his assigned counter while trying to put useless distance between himself and Marinette. “Please, no! It’s rare that I come out of these things unscathed!”

Marinette’s grin was downright predatory as she held up the bag of flour. “I can’t imagine why.”

Allan’s scream was the last thing Felix heard before Marinette swung the flour bag forward.

The entire room erupted into uncontrollable laughter as Allan coughed out at least half the bag. He was now stark white from head to toe, and Felix couldn’t be prouder. It served him right for poking the bear.

Allan hung his head in defeat, a bit of flour falling off of his head from the action. This only made the group laugh harder. Claude started to say something about the “set being complete”, but before he could finish-

“What is going on?!”

M. Tom reappeared in the doorway, his eyes wide and puzzled as he stared at the flour-covered room.

Felix froze. Right. They were supposed to be baking with Marinette’s parents.

Marinette set the flour bag down immediately. “I’m sorry, Papa, this is all my fault.”

“No, that’s not fair!” Claude protested. “Allegra and I spilled the flour bag first!”

“So she had to go get more!” Allegra continued the explanation.

“I’m the one who told her to throw the fresh flour at Allan.” Felix added. If anyone was to get in trouble, it should certainly be him. He was the only one who actually spilled the flour on purpose. Marinette didn’t deserve to take the blame for his petty actions.

M. Tom furrowed at the near-simultaneous remarks, but then let out a hearty laugh.

“I see you’ve all gotten into the baking spirit!” He declared. “Now who wants to learn how to actually fold dough?”

Felix blinked. He’d expected the man to be at least a little upset. Did this sort of thing happen often? Or was Marinette’s father simply that forgiving? M. Tom did refer to the mess as ‘the baking spirit’.. Whatever that means.

“Yeah we do!” Claude shouted enthusiastically, taking Felix from his thoughts.

“Great! Let’s start with putting the flour on the table.” Tom smiled, going back to his original spot next to Allan.

Felix followed the notion, going back to his original spot as well. He tried brushing more of the flour off of his vest, but, as expected, it didn’t help much. He was probably going to get more flour on him during the folding process anyway.

“Don’t worry.” Marinette whispered as she reclaimed her spot next to him. “I’ll let you guys wash up in the bathroom after this. If you want to, that is.”

Felix nodded. “I would be eternally grateful.”

Marinette giggled. “..So did you really threaten to sue them over your clothes?”

Felix paused his kneading long enough to sigh. Freaking Allan. That idiot deserved every speck of flour dust that he had on him.

Tag List: @artbyknigit @athena452 @nickristus-dreamer @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @arsaem @abrx2002 @neakco @pawsitivelymiraculous @too0bsessedformyowngood @nathleigh @lusicing @officiallydarkgeek @all-mights-asscheeks @tbehartoo @woe-is-me0 @raeuberprinzessin @lazuli-11 @miss-chaos27 @trippingovermyfeet @sadpotatoondrugs @ladybug-182

#Felinette #Rosemary AU #New Girl on the Block #Marinette #Felix Culpa #Quantic Kids

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mi6-cafe · 3 years

Photo

WEEK 3 DRABBLES ARE HERE!

Now, let’s refresh your memory about the prompt

We have asked our writers to write between 100 and 150 words of an acrostic drabble for NO TIME. (We wanted each paragraph to start with the given letters.)

THEY DID SUCH AN AWESOME JOB!

Now, how to vote?

Yup, that’s pretty much the method, although the writing of the individual feedback full of love is very much optional. (And yes, we’re reusing this meme from last week.)

Read the drabbles below the line (or on wordpress) and GO VOTE when you’re done!

Title: Little Prick Author: sorion Warnings: none Summary: Just some bondy banter.

Now, that was just rude, Q thought, sipping his tea with his eyes on the computer screen and giving a weak attempt at not looking amused.

Other than the potted plant in the corner, nobody was convinced of said attempt, and neither was Bond at the other end of the satellite connection, and he couldn't even see Q.

The hand gesture Bond waved at the hidden camera was still rude, though less original.

"I can hear you laugh into your tea; don't think I can't," Bond's crystal-clear voice echoed through Q-Branch.

"Mmm," Q hummed in agreement. "I have to get my kicks from somewhere, Bond, and you're usually a reliable source."

Ever the gentleman, Bond conceded with grace. "Alright, you win," he said. "Provided, of course, that you stop laughing for long enough to get me out of here, so I can come home."

Title: White Knight Author: sunaddicted Warnings: none Summary: bratty agents really do get on Bill’s nerves

"No."

"Oh, come on!"

Tanner arched an eyebrow at the raised tone of voice 009 was directing at him: he definitely didn't appreciate being talked to in such manner by a bratty agent - how the man was Q's favorite (besides Bond, of course), Bill would never know.

"I'm not messing around with the line-up just because you want to go to Malaysia."

M cleared his throat from the entrance of Tanner's office, looking coldly at 009. "Of course you're not. You should go get kitted for your own mission, 009: I believe R is waiting for you in Q-Branch."

Exhaling loudly, 009 pursed his lips and left with a stiff and parting nod - it was absolutely satisfying to watch. "You didn't have to come and save me," Bill pointed out, smiling up at the other even as M bent down to kiss him. "Thank you, though."

Title: Another Door Opens Author: soufflegirl91 Warnings: None Summary: Eve contemplates a door, and what led her to it

Now or never.

One way or another, things were about to change forever. In a way, everything from the moment she had shot James Bond off that bridge in Turkey had been leading to this.

The door loomed ahead, waiting for her to take the next step. There had been a time when she thought that with that one shot, she had ruined things forever. That any opportunity she had to prove herself in the field, any chance of a career, had crashed into the water with Bond’s body.

Instead, it had merely opened another door for her. Given her a chance to learn things she never would have in the field. The people, the politics. All the little games the field agents never saw.

“M,” her secretary greeted.

Eve nodded back at her, and walked through the door to her new office.

Title: Inside Information Author: starrboned / MrKsan Warnings: content warning: alcohol Summary: Bond is back again and bets are placed.

“No,” Q said over his glass of gin, finishing it off in one swig. “Not doing this again.”

“Or you could stop being such a wet blanket and place your bet already,” Moneypenny said, poking him in the ribs. He swatted at her, scooting closer to Tanner. “We all know Bond will ‘retire’ soon enough.”

“That’s all everyone’s talking about,” Q huffed, staring at his empty glass. “He’s back, he’s off again - it’s a never-ending cycle.” Almost wish he'd stay gone, he didn't say.

“It is,” Tanner sighs, nudging his half-full pint towards Q. “But even Mallory wagered a full six months."

“Mallory did?” Q almost choked on Tanner’s beer. “That’s - that’s unusual of him.”

“Eh, said something about how ‘Bond has something to prove' this time around.“ Tanner grinned. Q felt his cheeks warm under his knowing gaze. "Maybe he has some inside information, huh?"

Title: No Time Like The Present Author: storm_of_sharp_things Warnings: none Summary: Felix had been wondering if it was ever going to happen

“Not that you need to answer, but did you ever sleep with him?” Felix looked up from his glass as MI6’s Chief of Staff dropped into the chair next to him at the bar and quirked an eyebrow. It wasn’t how Felix would’ve started this conversation, but...

“Once,” he admitted. He tossed back the rest of his drink. “You?”

Tanner nodded, his gaze distant. “Once,” he said with a faint smile. “Seemed a good idea at the time.”

“I don’t regret it,” Felix said. Then he shrugged and smirked. “I think we’d have shot each other if we’d really tried to make it work. But I do miss him.”

“Me too.” Tanner paused long enough that Felix wondered if he’d follow through. “Listen, I’ve got some good bourbon back at mine. Want a drink where it’s quieter?”

“Easy answer,” Felix grinned. “Hell yes, thought you’d never ask, let’s go.”

Title: Entanglement Author: Nana-chan Warnings: Summary: In which 007 and Q trade places...

“Now take your clothes off slowly,” said Bond softly. “Goddammit, Q, I said slowly.”

“Oh, do piss off, Bond,” Q hissed, dropping his shirt to the floor while Bond continued to watch him through the CCTV live feed. “Now, help me with the leathers.”

“That actually sounds very sexy, coming from you,” Bond said conversationally, his eyes drifting all over Q’s bare midriff before focusing on the contraption strapped to him.

“I suppose it does, yeah,” replied Q archly. “Never mind my predicament.”

“Mm-hmm,” said Bond, unfazed. “Not enough time. The straps will have to stay for now. I’ll start, then.”

Entanglements such as this were usually Bond’s lot, not his, but what was he to do when someone had attached an IED to his person? At least he’d dispatched his would-be kidnapper. He sighed, relieved, as Bond typed in the code he’d devised to remotely disable the ticking bomb.

Title: Time Well Spent Author: IrishWitch58 / captain-magicalkitty Warnings: None Summary: A conversation over coms.

“Nine bloody days and the target hasn't moved at all.” Q could almost see the exasperated expression. Bond hated the need for surveillance and made his displeasure known.

“Once he does, I'm sure the resulting excitement will more than make up for your current boredom,” Q soothed. He managed to hide his smile from the rest of the branch late shift.

There was a disgusted snort from the coms. “You'll have to do better than that to make this up to me.” The tone was suggestive but only in the general Bond default setting. Q wasn't concerned about anyone overhearing.

“If you're still angling after an exploding pen, dream on.”

“Miser,” Bond accused, fond tone at odds with the statement.

Eventually the target would move and Bond would get the job done. Until then, they enjoyed time spent together, even far apart.

Title: N O T I M E Author: hexiva Warnings: Character death Summary: Bond confronts Blofeld.

No time to think as James rounds the corner, gun in hand, and comes face to face with Blofeld, with Franz.

Only hatred in Franz’s eyes, he reaches for his gun.

Trigger burning against James’ finger, all he has to do is pull it, end this, end this, but -

Ivy leaves underfoot, the sky blue above them, and they’re bickering but they’re just children still, not the killers they will become, and Franz laughs as James trips, and he reaches down to offer him a hand -

Many years ago, they were brothers. Franz knew him before he was 007. He’s the last man left who did. Everyone else is gone, and James is tired of being alone and tired of being a killer.

Every muscle in his body aches with weariness as he lets his gun drop. And he looks Franz in the eyes as Franz pulls the trigger.

Title: A Change of The Story Author: scarytheory Warnings: (a little bit of) sci-fi Summary: She has seen the future. What she’ll do with it is up to her.

No time to waste when she’s got a glimpse of the future. She had seen Bond devastated by loss and full of rage. She had seen Q who was absorbed in his job, bitter and sad. And herself – composed and nice and so, so lonely. Or was it possible to change it? She decided to go to that beach instead of Bond. But before she left, she whispered to him: “You’ve got a secret admirer in the Q branch.” Will it be enough? And the girl on the beach… will she manage to save her? “Tracy!” she screamed as she was trying to get her out of the water.

“I don’t know you.” Not yet.

“Moneypenny, Eve Moneypenny.”

Eve decided that this time she wasn't going to let them be burned by the inevitability. This time, Tracy would live.

#10

Title: Let the Record Show Author: anyawen Warnings: None Summary: They've read the same reports, but have arrived at differing conclusions.

"No, I don't think so," Q disagrees with forced lightness. "Not this time."

"Oh, honey," Eve sighs, not fooled in the least. She reaches across the table to squeeze his hand. "Every time. He always comes back."

"There's no reason for him to come back, not anymore," Q insists. "M is dead, and he's finished the last mission she ever gave him. He can retire now. Live a peaceful life with a beautiful woman. And a beautiful car."

"If you think he'll be happy with a peaceful life, you don't understand him as well as you think," Eve laughs.

"Maybe he doesn't want peaceful," Q allows, "but we've read his file. He doesn't want m— this either, or he wouldn't keep trying to leave."

"Eventually, he will come home. And when he does," Eve says, sitting back and angling to speak to someone over Q's shoulder, "you should tell him."

#11

Title: TO DIE Author: Merc / moon_of_mercury Warnings: This one is depressing. Sorry! Summary: The End.

Never again...

Observing from behind his screen, Q takes in the smoking, crumbling scene of destruction. Police cars with flashing lights and blaring sirens swarm the streets. A familiar silhouette blends in with the by-passers, slipping out of his view around the corner.

This is the last time James Bond holsters his gun, dusts off his suit, and heads for the airport to catch a flight Moneypenny arranged for him.

“It’s done,” Q says into the expectant stillness of the room. It hurts a little, even though he’s relieved. The showdown could have gone so much worse, but this is just as final.

Memories of this mission will haunt him for different reasons than usual. Their blazing victory is a bittersweet consolation.

Everything ends here; even those things that never began.

#12

Title: Mission Goal: Ideas Author: Venstar /1amvengeance Warnings: none Summary: well someone had to think of something.

“Now you're just showing off.” James’s voice drawled against Q’s ear.

“Oh, I'm showing off. Did you have any other ideas? No. Spies should have faster reflexes than asking me to 'Quick hide us!' My time and equipment are very expensive.” Q hissed quietly. They were still on a mission after all.

“That kiss was a far better idea than anything I had in mind. I'm happy to pay your asking price. Are you okay Q, your face has gone all red.”

“I will murder you in your sleep. I will end you. I will scatter your body parts to the farthest corners of the globe as a warning to those that think about blaming me for coming up with all the ideas!”

“Maybe instead of murder, you should think about our target. He’s escaping.”

“Escaping my arse. Someone is going to pay for your lack of ideas.”

#13

Title: Losing and Having Author: solarmorrigan Warnings: None. Summary: Bond reflects and knows he can't have it any other way.

Never in all his life had Bond felt quite this level of terror.

Or – well, no. That wasn’t quite true.

There had been one other time.

In the murky water, watching everything he’d allowed himself to love and depend on slip away into oblivion. The fear had clutched him then, shaken him and wrecked him.

Maybe he should have listened to his own damn self when he’d designated the heart as nothing but a target.

Even so, even knowing this, Bond clutched Q’s hand, eyes locked on his bruised and battered quartermaster who had only just returned to him, and knew it was worth it. The fear of loss was nothing against the euphoria of having.

#14

Title: Dreisamkeit (Or: Bliss comes in threes) Author: Misha / artsytarts / jelly-mish Warnings: Sickly sweet fluff, watch out for cavities Summary: Della, Felix and James are toying with the idea of having a lazy day in.

Nestled between the warm bodies of her boys, Della felt content.

“Occasionally, I’d like to just... stay here. All day.”, she said, letting her fingers brush through their hair in lazy strokes. James tightened his grip around her and made an approving noise.

Then the beeping started. Felix moved, banging his fist on the alarm clock. “Gosh darn it,” he growled. Della pouted in response, until a thought struck her. What if they took a sick day? Food poisoning? Good enough story. She suggested it out loud.

“If you take the blame,” James mumbled sleepily.

“Me? If anyone, it’d be Felix,” Della grinned at her husband's dirty look and carried on: “Remember when you forgot to add water to the pasta? The fumes were noxious.”

Eventually, reluctantly, they broke up their haven of safety and rolled out of bed. Della sighed. There never seemed to be enough time.

#15

Title: Augment Author: oldestcharm Warnings: n/a Summary: Every week Q argues his case and wins. "No," M says, squinting and displeased. "Absolutely not."

"One million," Q attempts with a half-hearted smile, but he knows well enough that it wouldn't work in any other situation. He's not even trying that hard at this point, because he knows he'll win this argument every single time. "It's not that much. I should probably ask ten times that with the amount of shit Bond breaks. Remember last week? I deserve a better budget."

"Then stop supplying him with expensive equipment," M suggests, unsympathetic at best.

"I'll have you know he'll get his hands on it whether I supply it or not," Q says crossly.

"Maybe you aren't doing a good enough job at security."

"Exactly, I need a better budget!" Q insists, eyeing M with a bit of a manic expression as he sets down the tablet in front of him. "Now sign it or deal with the consequences."

Go Vote!

#00Q #00Q fic #drabbles #james bond fanfiction #james bond #LDWS #ldws 2021 #ldws2021

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chalkrevelations · 3 years

Text

Huh.

Well, this is not the next episode reaction you were expecting, but a while back, in the middle of the night, while I was ready to cry from working on a pharmacology paper, out of nowhere, Youtube threw up Street Dance of China S3 Ep1 at me. And yeah. I am, admittedly, f’kn weak for a dance show. (There are enough SYTYCD episode reax on my old Livejournal that I feel there’s no point denying this.)

So – no, actually, wait. FIRST of all, I do NOT believe the “towel vote” we ended up being given for the opening routines from the four captains. That was the most blatant bit of bullshit chicanery I’ve seen in my LIFE, and I say this as a person with a ton of SYTYCD episode reax on my old Livejournal, and I also say this not because Wang Yibo ended up last (well, not entirely), but because I saw Wallace Chung’s routine. As someone closer in age to him than to the other three captains, I have to give him props for trying, but come on, man. The critique that Yibo got from random contestants – if the subtitles are to be believed, so I realize this needs a grain of salt - basically boiled down to “it was too good for the stage lighting.” :hands: Also, I saw your face at the reveal, Wallace, and you were as shocked as I was. No way you got more towels/votes than Wang Yibo. Not unless there’s some super wild undercurrent of nostalgia propping you up, which, I guess could happen, because literally all I know about pop culture in China, current or otherwise, is filtered through Tumblr and Youtube, both notoriously suspect, but … anyway. There’s got to be a TON of behind-the-scenes manipulation going on for Yibo to be rock-bottom with last pick of teams but then also to end up with THAT pool of possibles. Are you kidding me with this?

ANYWAY, what I wanted to say is that I actually really like Wang Yibo here, and it’s not just because he’s the only captain I have even a sliver of familiarity with, and it’s not just because Lan Wangji was banging Wei Wuxian. I do realize all of this is influenced by whatever edit they’ve decided to give a particular captain or contestant, but I’m impressed with the way Yibo immediately starts team building by getting his group into a warmup, getting them dancing together, getting them dancing with him before they have to worry about dancing for him. (I mean, come on, Jackson Wang. The way to get people to stop being nervous is not to say “Stop being nervous! It will make you fuck up!”) The way Yibo immediately recognized and responded to his group’s concerns about that one dude copying someone else’s routine probably also bought him a lot of return investment. He’s dressed to work it, in his sweats and his flannel (what IS that fake-leather TAC vest and random leg holster-looking thing, Jackson Wang?). He’s convincing me he really loves to dance, he can’t hold still while he watches the contestants, he’s wandering over into other captains’ turf when it sounds like there’s a dancer performing who he might like to see, he’s being the best Yibo he can be, and I’m grooving along, wind in my hair, totally down for this ride. He’s also adorable at the beginning when all the other captains are like, my goal for this season is to slaughter the competition and dance on their graves! And he’s like, well, I’d like to … make some friends? And learn some new stuff? I don’t know if the perpetual Humble Student schtick is natural or persona, or whether it’s general or specific to dancing, but it’s working for you, my dude. This is also made better (read: ironic), by the fact that it’s immediately before the towel reveal, when he flips over to utter disbelief and gets all sulky for a while over the “fact” that his dance routine got the least votes.

Also, OH WAIT. This is where that clip of Yibo dancing with his crew ALL OVER HIM came from that I saw floating around a few months ago, isn’t it? You’re telling me those guys had never danced together before and had like, three minutes to throw together that routine? I’m even more impressed than before. Meanwhile, the towels symbolize courage and challenge, Mr. Emcee? OK, fine, cheesy reality show blah blah whatever. Can we get to the dancing now?

I’m going to put the rest of this behind a cut, because it got super long, because it turns out, when you watch in 5-minute increments, it takes two and a half weeks to get through a single episode, but you actually can see and have opinions on all 5,328 contestants, plus every single one of the captains’ battles. Meanwhile, I’m trying to convince myself this is not going to be another series of episode reactions, but 1) I do have the benefit of not having a ton of hometown media giving me a next-day play-by-play, so even though this is six months old, everything’s a surprise; 2) I am, admittedly, f’kn weak for a dance show; and 3) it’s easy to watch in 5-minute increments between researching drug interactions in hypothetical hypertensive patients with stable ischemic heart disease, erectile dysfunction, and seasonal allergies. So, I guess we’ll see. It’ll be slow going, though, because I don’t ever have two and half hours to sit down and watch an ep cover-to-cover – if it happens, it will likely keep happening in 5-minute increments. Meanwhile, there is a metric shit-ton of nattering below the cut, so caveat lector. No, seriously, I kept adding to this little by little until it became a monster. Hashtag long post (remorseful).

OK, I am generally out of my depth here, as this is not at all my area of dance not-really-expertise, but some reactions:

Team Wang Yibo: I can see why he didn’t want to choose between Colin and Dian Men – Colin might have been a touch better technically and a better showman, but Dian Men didn’t seem to have a single wasted move – but, also, my dude. Yibo. You maybe should look a little bit less stunned and overwhelmed by the mere presence of Colin, it’s giving me ideas about your taste in men. Continuing with the powerhouses, I probably shouldn’t even attempt to critique Klash, but I did feel like he was a bit stiff in some of his footwork; that final V kick, though, shit, that’s what having that kind of upper-body strength is for. Bouboo … I mean, excellent flexibility and control, of course, but mainly I’m just terribly amused that Yibo got last pick of teams but somehow ended up with the guy who’s literal world champion, and who’s just as useful for getting into the other captains’ heads – without even trying – as he is for his talent. And then there’s a montage of Yibo giving out towel after towel after towel, and my dude, you cannot keep up this pace. There are still too many dancers to see, and you don’t have that many towels. AAANNNND Towel Battle #1 (See Footnote 1).

Team Jackson Wang: I do like Gai Gai, although that may be influenced by the fact she’s working in the twilight area between hip-hop and contemporary that I have more familiarity with - but also, I suspect she’s pretty good in her genre. I thought Xiao Jie was inconsistent and didn’t stick the landing on his initial attempt, so I have to give you that hesitation, Jackson, even though you’ve somehow ended up the villain in my inner narrative for this show, for no particular reason I can yet discern. Maybe it’s that you’re the direct competition for Yibo’s team in the towel battles. Good enough. Anyway, Xiao Jie definitely stepped up his game for the battle with Bingo, so I can kind of see why both of them got a towel, but we’re not even halfway through this, and most of y’all are giving away towels like you have an endless supply. Yang Kai is a fucking menace with fantastic musicality, and I’m just gonna say it and take the fallout - I think he gave a better performance first time out of the gate than any of Yibo’s powerhouses did. Whatever power Klash has got, whatever skill Bouboo has got, Yang Kai feels more explosive and engaging, at least in these initial showings. He’s going to be one to beat, I’d hug him too, if he was on my team and was going to help me WIN. Yibo’s probably lucky that happened during his little stroll over to check out the competition, so that he can see they’re definitely competitive and be prepared for it. Also, Jackson, I have to admit - that face you made when Chao really kicked in? That was the same face I made, because wt actual f, you have a literal secret weapon – secret because he CAME FROM NOWHERE and NO ONE EVEN KNOWS him, how is that even possible, how did he get that good – fluid, creative, controlled, incredible musicality - without anyone having any idea who he even is? And then there’s a montage of Jackson just giving out towel after towel after towel, and my dude, you need to slow down. You can’t just be like, “THEY LOVE DANCE WITH ALL OF THEIR WHOLE HEARTS!!!!1111!!!!11!” I get it, but everyone there loves dance with all of their whole hearts, and there are not enough towels to send all of them on to the next round. ANNNND, Towel Battle #1 (See Footnote 1).

Team Lay Zhang: lol at how diplomatic you’re being, Lay Zhang – your team’s fierce roar startled you, OK. At this point, I suspect you’re the street most likely to have a knife fight break out before this is all over. I do like Alex, I think he’s got a lot of interesting, super-clean details in his moves, and he’s engaging - I cannot BELIEVE you made him battle that dude whose moves were so mushy, Lay Zhang, it leaves me doubting your ability to judge this thing. At first I thought maybe you were just looking for an excuse because you wanted to see Alex freestyle, but then you actually said something about both dancers being equal, and my estimation of you plummeted, and also sadly, my sound dropped out for the actual battle, including the part where the clearly inferior dancer fell over and then accidentally POPPED ALEX ONE IN THE EYE, and I TOLD YOU SO. I do agree it’s a good idea to make dancers in the same genre do some battling, so you can kind of plan out your towels and put together a team with broad strengths, instead of giving out towels like you’re making it rain for the first 20 contestants, and then you have 1,375 more people to get through, with 3 towels left, as EVERYONE ELSE seems to be doing, so it’s nice that at least one of you guys is thinking – if not actually acting - strategically. That was clearly not even a contest, though, GIVE ALEX HIS TOWEL and send him to the next round. Xiao Bao is hilarious, with his concern that his team captain, who’s into krump, which is “beating,” isn’t going to appreciate his waacking, which is “slapping.” I also don’t know a whole lot about waacking, so thanks for the primer, Xiao Bao, and don’t worry, your performance is just as engaging for those of us who don’t know what we’re watching as you are generally. You deserve that towel for your ability to interact with and engage your audience, alone. Lingo is a good solid performance, although he’s got his team captain strategizing edited over some of it, and here’s the thing: we are 1:56:00 into this, at this point, with another half hour to go, and all of you are starting to disappear into the sea of dancers who are very good at what you do, but at generally the same level? Anyway, Lingo, I approve of your ability to interact with your audience (read: your captain) to ensure engagement, too, so keep that up. Annnd, we actually haven’t seen that much of you guys, but it’s time for Towel Battle #2 (See Footnote 2).

Team Wallace Chung: I’m glad Su Lian Ya insisted on performing, I thought she started off slow but warmed up, and that ending was creepily fantastic and had me spontaneously grinning at the screen in delight. Then we lose sight of this group for a really long time, actually. We go back to find Wallace putting through a couple of urban dancers who we barely see, but who apparently claim to have some choreography experience, and he really likes that. TI shows up, and they’re solid, but honestly, not as good in this performance as they were in some of the stock footage the show threw up to introduce them, but Wallace remains super-excited about the idea of choreography and sends at least choreographer Zhang Jiang Peng through to the next round. And then, we really haven’t seen that much of you guys, either, which maybe doesn’t bode well, but it’s time for Towel Battle #2 (See Footnote 2).

FOOTNOTE 1, aka TOWEL BATTLE ONE, Team Yibo vs. Team Jackson, 3V3 freestyle: First of all, I have to say, I love Yibo - Mr. I Just Wanna Make Some Friends And Have Some Fun - being all, “I have three crappy white towels I’m stuck with for coming in last place that I can’t use to send dancers to the next round and that I DO NOT DESERVE, and I am getting BACK the colorful towels that ARE RIGHTFULLY MINE. I am coming for whoever is in my way.” Team Yibo is Bouboo, Klash, Dian Men, and OK, given what we’ve seen so far, that’s the safe choice, but honestly, I think we’re just taking some things for granted right now, and I’m not sure they actually have given the best performances so far. Yeah, I said it. Team Jackson is Yang Kai, Chao, and Xiao Jie, and … ok, on that last one, I think you probably could have substituted Bingo, but all right. Yang Kai is a definite yes. Chao will be great if he can stay out of his own head and not psych himself out, but given what we’ve seen so far, he’s an obvious pick. First round, Yang Kai vs. Klash, and Yang Kai is still a fucking menace, with super lines. Klash definitely stepped up his game for the battle, and I can’t get over the upper body strength he’s got, to get that kind of airy bounce in his moves, but to be honest, I can’t even be mad the first round went to Yang Kai and Team Jackson. Second round, Yang Kai is still … y’all, the beautiful lines from this guy in his poses, I can’t get over them, but I think he doesn’t have the stamina, his footwork is getting sloppy. Bouboo also steps up his game for an actual battle, his fluidity and control is amazing, and yeah, round to Team Yibo. Round three, Xiao Jie gives it a decent effort, but the polish isn’t there; meanwhile Bouboo is still in champion mode, and I was kind of surprised this was a split vote and went to another round. Xiao Jie absolutely surprised me, coming back stronger on his second try, although I suppose a more familiar genre helped, but Bouboo continues in champion mode. Round four, Chao looks like he’s going to throw up right before he steps out there, and then as soon as the music starts, it’s like, he doesn’t even think. The music just moves him. I feel like his dance vocabulary is more limited than Bouboo’s, though, and Bouboo’s flow is amazing at this point, so I feel like the judges just want to drag this out and see more dancing when we go to one more round. Strong effort all around, but yeah, round four and two towels to Team Yibo. I can’t really complain about that. I do feel like Yibo’s powerhouses have been holding back until now, though, and I’m not sure how I feel about THAT.

FOOTNOTE 2, aka TOWEL BATTLE TWO, Team Zhang vs. Team Wallace, 3V3 w/ captain: lol, Team Zhang really wants someone to pick the Sailor Moon song because they know Xiao Bao and his waacking will tear it up. Anyway, Team Zhang includes Lingo and Xiao Bao, who does not get his Sailor Moon song and continues to be hilarious in his disbelief about being chosen to participate in this battle, when he’s not looking almost as sick as Chao from Team Jackson before HIS performance. Team Wallace includes Su Lian Ya – and honestly, despite how I’m getting ready to bag on him for the entire rest of this battle recap, I like that Wallace put one of his female dancers up there for the battle - and some dude named Ba that they haven’t given us any footage of, up ‘til now, at least that I can remember and who I … don’t even know has been formally given a towel and sent on to the next round, yet? Oh wait, he must have, because there’s talk in the pause for choreography about somehow using the towels during the battle. Wallace relies on Su Lian Ya and Zhang Jiang Peng to choose Ba, and then Ba ends up choreographing a lot of the performance, at least from the edit we see. I continue to feel you may be in over your head, Wallace. This feeling … is not assuaged by your performance in the first round, which is fine, but not really up to the level of almost anyone whose name I’ve bolded so far in this entire recap. Also, using the towels was a cute idea, but it doesn’t translate well, and Team Wallace has a lot of wasted time throwing the towels around instead of actually. You know. Dancing. Lingo gets a credible solo during Team Zhang’s performance, and even though Xiao Bao is clearly lost during a good bit of his backup dancer duties, he manages not to throw up, which – given this team’s general skill level – should be enough to give them the first round, EXCEPT SOMEHOW Team Wallace gets the point from the judges, who then try to justify this inexplicable decision by saying Team Wallace had better interaction, I guess because of the hot mess with throwing the towels around, but adding that Team Zhang was more scattered, which what? More scattered than the hot mess with the towels? I’m not buying this. I can’t tell if they’re propping up Wallace or fucking with Lay Zhang’s head, but I’m having bad acid flashbacks to the many and varied ways dance show judges will try to gaslight you, telling you that things you just saw with your very own eyes did not actually happen when it’s right there! On camera! Visible, despite whatever edit bs you’re pulling! ANYWAY, they’re definitely managing to fuck with not only Lay Zhang’s head, but Xiao Bao’s, and Xiao Bao still doesn’t seem to have his choreography down, but they manage to pull it together enough to take the second round, which to be honest is kind of a muddled mess on everyone’s part. The only one who really stands out to me on this go’round is Su Lian Ya, but OK, Team Zhang might have had it slightly more together as a unit. And then, yeah, OK, I think they were fucking with Lay Zhang’s head, because we then find out that, holy shit, the song the show powers-that-be chose for the tie-breaking third round is that gd Sailor Moon song, and we can all see the writing on the wall. Poor Team Wallace is no match for Xiao Bao, who frankly, carries this entire round on his shoulders without breaking a sweat and barely needs any backup dancers to do it. There’s some ridiculously dramatic reveal of scoring, with the judges dragging out their decisions like this was any actual contest - I’m beginning to suspect that some of them grew up with Wallace Chung posters on their bedroom walls - but finally, round and towel to Team Zhang.

Cut to a little bit of Next Time On, and wow, the first two-and-a-half-hour episode is over, and we aren’t finished with the initial round yet. It’s gonna be Christmas before I make it halfway through this season.

#street dance of china #sdoc episode reax #should i put yibo in the tags for this?#sure #i guess #wang yibo #anyone else?

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the-final-sif · 4 years

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My head produced a scene, basically what happens after the ending to my blue core Katsuki vs Overhaul post where Dabi captures Katsuki after Katsuki defeated Overhaul. The whole fight/fights were broadcast out, and the heroes get free too late to stop Dabi from taking the heavily weakened Katsuki.

So, the LOV/PLF now have Katsuki. He’s still heavily weakened and injured, but they patch him up as best they can and he’s put on painkillers, which have the added benefit of keeping him hazy so escaping his harder for him.

Aizawa is losing his fucking mind, as are a lot of class 1-A, but unlike before they have no leads on where Katsuki is, given that the league now has way more resources to keep him hidden.

Or at least, they think they have no leads.

Hawks, a double agent, is working on fixing that. Sort of. It doesn’t take him long to find out where Katsuki is. The league is wary about letting him have any information on the matter, but Hawks is a charmer and convinces them he just likes the kid and wants to be sure he’s okay.

Finally, Hawks gets down to where Katsuki is being kept. He’s meant to stay quiet so Katsuki doesn’t notice him. That was his plan anyways.

His plan did not involve a wide eyed Dabi being in the cell already.

Katsuki is high on painkillers, gaze bleary as he recounts his mother’s anger and blame after the last time he got kidnapped. His words are slurred and voice quiet, sad, weak. Towards the end of his story, he refocuses, red eyes seeming to see Dabi again, for just long enough for him to get out a single sentence.

“Guess you'd understand what that's like, huh Touya?”

And then he’s passed out. Leaving Hawks and Dabi both equally stunned and confused.

Dabi recovers first, pushing his way out of the cell almost in a frenzy, brushing past everyone else to get up to the roof. Desperate for fresh air and to be alone. He is not alone. Hawks is stunned for several seconds longer, but once he regains himself, once all the puzzle pieces fall into place, he’s surging after Dabi, frantic to not lose him. Not again.

When Hawks gets to the roof, Dabi is on the far side of it, sitting on the edge with his legs dangling off the side. The door was silent, Hawks was silent, Dabi is not looking at him. That doesn’t stop Dabi from speaking the moment Hawks pauses in indecision.

"I know you're there."

Throwing on a smile Hawks tries to play it off, stepping forward as if nothing is wrong. As if this doesn’t change everything.

"Hey, uh, sorry, didn't mean to intrude, I just saw you and you looked kinda upset-"

"Don't lie to me, spy. I know who you are. I know you heard him."

Hawks blood freezes, but Dabi's made no move to attack him, so he steps a little closer against his better judgment. He’s not afraid. How could he be?

"... So I'm guessing the kid got it right?"

"... Go away."

"That's a yes then."

Hawks is still a few steps back, and he's got so many mixed emotions but in the end, he's a hero. He does what he does best. Besides, there’s no way he could walk away from this. Not again.

"Listen, I don't know what hap-"

"Fuck off. I'm not doing this. I'm not someone you can save, Hawks. Don't waste your time. Just take the kid and go. I figured out you're a spy, your cover was blown, blah blah, so you didn't have any other choice but to cut your losses and save who you could."

Hawks' eyes soften, hesitation slipping away as he steps forward, hopping up onto the roof's edge to sit next to Dabi. They’re sitting too close together, but Dabi doesn’t try to move away despite his words. Both their gazes look out over the horizon as Hawks tone shifts to something regretful.

"I can't save him."

That gets Dabi to look at him, blue eyes angry and accusing.

"The fuck are you talking about? You could cut those damn chains and be gone before the damn alarm even sounds."

His words, an odd hostile vote of confidence, only serve to make Hawks' expression fall further into soft apologetic sadness.

"You’re right, I could do that, but I can't save him.” He pauses for a moment. “I figured out his location two days ago. I've been lying to the Commission about it since I found out. I’m going to keep lying to them about it."

Now Dabi just looks confused, eyes narrowed and face scrunched up as he tries to figure out Hawks’ game.

"Why the hell would you do that? What's stopping you from just taking his ass back to his shitty high school?"

Hawks' voice turned cold, eyes hallow. He looks more defeated than Dabi had ever seen him, which isn’t saying much. But he also looks more defeated than Touya had ever seen him, and that says a lot more.

"Because if I bring him back, if any hero brings him back, he won't be returning to UA. At all."

Then after a beat, almost as an afterthought, Hawks continued. There’s too casual a tone to his words, as if he’s on the news giving an update on a bad situation while trying not to let his mask break.

"The Commission saw the broadcast. Everyone did. Everyone saw a 16 year old unleash the equivalent of a small nuclear weapon in under 10 seconds. According to one of his classmates, the kid can do it with no real prep and a 12 to 24 hour recovery. No long lasting damage if the attacks are spaced out enough. After the Commission saw that, they gave me new orders."

It takes a moment for Dabi to process that. He's almost gaping at Hawks in horror and revulsion. Hawks doesn’t need to say what his orders are. Both of them already know what the Commission does.

"They can't- I mean I know they'd fucking try it, but UA wouldn't give up one of their best students. Fuck, that homeroom teacher of his wouldn't put up with that shit."

"His parents already signed the forms. Hardly took anything to convince them. UA has no legal ground to stop anything.”

Dabi tries a different approach, still unwilling to believe it.

"It wouldn't work. He's too old, you know how stubborn that damn kid is. I can tell you for a fact we aren’t gonna be able to break him, and they sure as hell won’t either."

"They can. They’ll make it work. One way or another.”

That’s all Hawks has to say, both of them know how true it is.

“The public wouldn’t-”

Hawks barks out a laugh, and it is an ugly, angry sound of resentment.

"They've got it all planned out, No matter what state he's in when he's recovered, the story is he got brainwashed by you lot and required a specialized recovery program along with extensive therapy. That excuses the personality change and sudden cooperation. UA can't do shit about it, even with their PR influence, they let the kid get kidnapped twice and the public is already upset with how they’ve handled him."

Hawks' gaze turns bitter and his voice is near venomous.

"The Commissions’ already got a new name picked out for him and everything. ‘Firecracker’ because they thought it'd ‘create positive associations’ and ‘make him more marketable to children’."

Both of them need a moment after that. Dabi looks away, furious now. Hawks takes a deep breath and gives him a watery grin of helplessness.

"Like I said, I could get the kid out of here, but I can't save him."

Dabi takes a deep breath too. Then another. His anger focuses, turning from unfiltered rage to a targeted fury. He knows what Hawks was saying now. Knows just how this story goes. How it’s already gone. But things are not the same as they were back then, and Dabi is sick of this fucking story.

"Alright. So, the kid can't go back until those fucks are out of the way. We're sitting on the roof of a fucking villain organization that's already trying to bring down the government. I'm one of it's fucking commanders. That’s not a problem. Or at least it won’t be for very long."

For the first time since he got the orders, hope sparks in Hawks' chest, and it's his turn to be wide eyed. If it was anyone else- anyone in the fucking world, there’d be no way. But this isn’t just anyone. This is Dabi. This is Touya. But doubt still taints his voice.

"I- It's not just one person. It's dozens and dozens, and they're all heavily protected.”

"So? We aren't one person either. There's a whole damn army here waiting to go."

Hawks bites his lip, but the hope only grows stronger. He used to have dreams of getting free. Of ending the people who trapped him here. It’d been a long time since he had those dreams. They’d been foolish, he had no where else to go but his pretty gilded cage. Nobody to turn to. No help, no savior. But that wasn’t true, maybe it never really had been. He’d gotten a feeling that someone had been bailing him out when he’d almost slipped up a few times as a double agent. Maybe someone had been.

"Will the kid be safe here in the meantime? This won't happen quickly. Even with all the resources in the world."

Dabi considers it, well and truly, before he nods firmly.

"Yeah, it'll be a pain to actually keep him here. Word going around is that he's a little escape artist. But Tomura's not gonna hurt him, he’s given a standing no harm order and nobody around here’s stupid enough to go against that. I'll keep my eye on him too. Just in case."

Then he pauses, plans taking shape in his head, growing and spinning, forming more completely.

"All we'll need from you is names and faces. We need to know who needs to go."

It's terrifying, it’s the wrong choice, it’s a stupid idea, but Hawks nods in agreement after a few seconds of internal debate. He wouldn't under any other circumstances- but fuck. He can't let them do what they did to him to someone else. He just can't. Hawks wants out of his cage, and he sure as fuck isn’t letting them drag another kid into it.

“I- I can do that. Give me a day to get everything together, I don’t know all the names, but I can get code names if nothing else.”

Dabi nods once more to affirm the plan, and the two of them sit in silence for a few more heartbeats, unsaid word lingering between them. It's Dabi who breaks the silence, an uncharacteristic softness to his voice.

"God, I can't believe you finally find out my name, and what, fucking five minutes later we're already back on our bullshit."

Hawks laughs, but this time it's light and childish like it used to be. Like it should be. He kicks his legs out, stretching out his wings behind him.

"What can I say? There was a reason the Commission hated it when I hung out with you, isn't that right Touya?"

It brings back memories Dabi had been suppressing for months now, pretending that they meant nothing to him, even as he let Hawks into the league, covered for him, erased camera footage and lied to protect him. He can't help but laugh too. His laugh is raspy from years of smoke and burned lungs. Hawks can’t help but take joy in hearing it again.

"I supposed so. You really haven't changed at all Keigo."

It's the first time in nearly 10 years Hawks heard that name, and it makes him grin ear to ear, silly and open and feeling comfortable like he hasn't since the last time he was called that. The last time he was Keigo.

Dabi takes another deep breath in and then twists to hop back onto the main part of the roof, pausing to meet Hawks' eyes with a long lost mischievous grin on his face.

"Come on slowpoke, we've got shit to do."

It’s not the first time he’s been called that. It’s the first time in a long time, but it’s just like every time before.

Just like every time before, Hawks' wings flutter in indignation (Touya was the only one who ever called him that, because he thought it was ever so funny how affronted Keigo got, so much so that no matter how fast he got, Touya refused to let it drop).

“You are the worst.”

Hawks grumbled, rolling his eyes as he hopped to his feet, snagging Dabi's hand to tug him back towards the door. Dabi is laughing at him again, but Hawks can't find it in himself to be actually annoyed.

How could he be? For the first time in too many years, he had his Touya back with him. He was allowed to be Keigo again, even if it was only for a short period. And for once, he had a feeling that things might be okay after all.

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nekoannie-chan · 4 years

Text

Fix it

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader.

Word count: 1254 words.

Summary: Steve doesn’t wanna lose you, he would do anything to save you.

Warnings: Death of a character, sad.

A/N: This is my entry to the @candy-and-writing’s 1000 Followers Writing Challenge with the prompt #17:

“Why the fuck did you do that?”

Also my entry to @justagirlinafandomworld’s Time Travel Challenge with the prompt #20:

“So…I died. I’m dead”.

And my entry to @cap-n-stuff’s Vic’s 500 Followers Writing Celebration with the dialogue prompt #14:

“It wasn’t supposed to end this way”.

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistake please let me know and I will correct it.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics be posted in other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don’t steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other’s people. The only exception is the ones I gifted ‘cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and is not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Marvel’s characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

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Tags: @sinceimetyou @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @saiyanprincessswanie @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @smokeandnailz

You knew the opportunity was unique, any mistake and Doom would win, you ran as fast as you could, it was the only option, and there was no one closer. You thought you heard screaming behind you, you ignored it, you weren't even sure if they followed you, there was no time to waste, you felt you were short of air, but at last you had reached your goal, you took out the tools and started disabling the equipment... a few minutes later you knew what to do.

You turned to see Steve, it would be the last time, your sacrifice would save the world, and for a few seconds you closed your eyes to avoid the tears from coming out, you gave one last look at your boyfriend.

"I love you... goodbye Steve, "you whispered as you took off the bracelet you used to contain your powers.

A blinding light illuminated the place, Steve was stunned, he could not believe it, he knew perfectly well what that light meant; the plan did not contemplate any sacrifice, he could not conceive that there was any way in which it failed.

Immediately Steve ran to where the light had originated, began to remove the debris desperately looking for you. It took the rest of them several minutes to understand what had happened.

As soon as Steve found your body, he hugged it, he was trying to make you react in some way, but it wasn't possible anymore. The rest began to approach, Lorna stopped when she was already very close.

"No, no... Y/N... Doll... please open your eyes," he asked between sobs.

“Is Y/N...?”

"Lorna, don't you dare say it, that's not possible," Wanda interrupted her by sizing to the side of her.

Gert turned to see Nico, she shook her head, she knew it wasn't something the Staff of One could do, she tried when Gert died in the fight against Morgan and it didn't work.

"Do something! Steve cried desperately at Nico without letting go of your body.

"I-I'm sorry... I can't revive someone," Nico apologised.

Steve lost track time that happened since you die, a very fixed idea had appeared in his head, and he had heard what the Runaways had done several years earlier, even remembering the déjà vu feeling.

Bucky walked into the room that you and Steve used to share, during all those days he was trying to cheer up and support her friend, but nothing seemed to work.

"S-Steve, it's about time," Bucky announced, taking his friend off his shoulder.

Steve didn't answer, he let Bucky direct him to the place where your funeral ceremony would be. After that he locked himself back in the room, he waited for him to go out again, walked to Chase's lab, would come out of doubt once and for all. He rang the bell outside the place. Chase immediately opened.

"Cap, do you need something?”

"I wanna talk," Steve replied.

"Sure, come in, I was making some repairs to the Fistigons, I like that they're always ready... you know, in case I need them,” Chase walked over the door to let it go. “What do you want to talk about?”

"I know you travelled back in time to save Gert, I need you to help me, and I have to prevent Y/N... sacrifices.

Chase swallowed, he had no idea how Steve had found it out, and as far as he knew they wouldn't tell anyone how they brought Gert back.

"I don't know what you're talking about.”

"You know, now that I think about it, maybe I dreamed it," Steve left the lab, realizing where Chase had his time machines stored.

He spent the next few hours planning how to get one, he was going to do whatever it took to avoid your fateful end, but he wouldn't go to that moment, but a few days earlier, what he wanted was to prevent you from going on that mission.

"Has anyone seen Steve?” Sam asked. No one knew where he was, Chase immediately realized what was going on, when he went to his lab, and he noticed the machine that was missing.

"Oh no...”

Steve went into the Compound’s kitchen, you were looking for the piece of cake you kept in the fridge to eat later.

"Steve, did you eat my cake?" You asked him when you saw him come in, seeing that he wasn't responding, you knew he did it. “Why the fuck did you do that?”

"I-I'm sorry, I was hungry.”

You closed the refrigerator door, saw the clock on the wall, you hadn't even heard the Quinjet arrive, you came up to Steve and looked at him carefully; he did not remember that a few days earlier they had a mission.

"You're not Steve. Loki, I don't have time for jokes," you said.

"Y/N, it's me, Steve, seriously...”Steve realized that for the first time he didn't have a plan and didn't know what to do. You were going to call the others who were at the Compound when he stopped you. ”Please listen to me, I can't lose you again.”

"I beg you pardon?”

"I have something very important to tell you.”

You went to your office where he explained everything, you listened to dumbfounded everything Steve told you.

"Why should I believe you?" You asked.

"Because I've done all this to avoid losing you, they lost Gert and figured to get her back, I just can't imagine a world without you.

“So…I died. I’m dead”

Before Steve could answer anything, Nico came into your office.

“Y/N... Am I interrupting something? Have you returned from the mission yet?”

"No, is...what happened?”

"I detected some alterations in the Dark Dimension... if that continues Tandy and Ty will come to investigate, last time they argued with Stark," Nico explained.

You and Steve looked at each other, there was no choice but to explain what happened.

"Then the Captain stole one of the machines we used when Gert... how did you know?”

"I heard one of your conversations one day, you guys should understand me, I lost the person I love, and I just want it back.”

The most difficult part was to convince everyone that you would not go on the mission, Chase had finally explained what would happen to Steve, however, he should avoid having contact with his past self, when they arrived at the same time Steve had travelled, and those versions would be replaced, resulting in a new timeline.

"Steve," you called him. He looked up. “Thanks for saving me.”

"I love you.”

"I love you too.”

Four months had passed since that mission, a call alerted them, Thanos went for the Infinity stones you had, but it wasn't the only thing, his appearance wreaked great havoc on the Dark Dimension, while Tina, Nico, Tandy, and Tyrone tried to contain everything he wanted to get out of the Loa, the rest was fighting Thanos' army.

Thanos had got all the stones, after snapping his fingers, disappeared. You felt something weird inside you, it was different than when the force inside you wanted to get out of control, the fear took hold of you, were you dying?

"Steve?" You called him, you wanted me to tell you that everything was going to be okay, but when he turned around, there were only ashes.

Steve approached, he was supposed to save you, not to lose you again, he dropped to his knees.

“It wasn’t supposed to end this way”

#candys1000writingchallenge #yvettestimetravelchallenge #vics500challenge #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers fic

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singswithmicoff · 4 years

Text

Here is a short story I wrote for @isearchedtheyooniverse for the @exolssecretsanta event. I hope that you like it. Merry Christmas!!

It's also available on A03.

Baekhyun Byun looked around the baggage claim area for a sign of his former college roommate, Chanyeol Park. He had met Chanyeol their freshman year of college when they were paired as roommates. They had gotten along so well that they continued to live together for the remainder of college. After graduation, Baekhyun returned to his hometown while Chanyeol had stayed to complete his master’s.

Even though they were halfway across the country from each other, they had remained close, talking almost every day and getting together for trips as their schedules allowed. Baekhyun made several trips back to their alma mater, as well as a vacation to Turks and Caicos the previous winter. This would be Chanyeol’s first time to visit Baekhyun in his hometown. He had finished his master’s degree and was coming to interview at the mental health facility that Baekhyun worked at.

“Yah, Baekhyun!”

The shout startled Baekhyun out of his daze and he snapped his head around to find his friend. It didn’t take long to spot the six foot tall man, and Baekyun felt his face break out into a large grin rivaled only by the grin Chanyeol sported.

“Loey!”

Baekhyun rushed to the man, taking in his features. He was always amazed by how attractive Chanyeol was. He was tall with wide brown eyes. His hair was dyed a light brown and peeked out from under his hat along with his ears that stuck out in a way that had endeared Chanyeol to him from the moment they met. Baekhyun allowed himself to think, just briefly, about the crush he had always had on his friend as Chanyeol hugged him tightly.When they pulled back, Chanyeol smiled brightly at him.

“It’s been too long! I can’t believe I’m finally going to get a chance to see the infamous hometown of Baekhyun Byun.”

Baekhyun reached for Chanyeol’s carry on, but Chanyeol pulled it out of his reach.

“Once you nail this interview, you’ll get to spend so much time there you’ll regret all your choices.”

“If only. I’m not convinced they’ll agree,” Chanyeol replied as he threw an arm around Baekhyun’s shoulders. They watched the baggage carousel as it began to produce suitcases.

Baekhyun leaned into him slightly, inhaling his scent. Even with the hours spent on the airplane he still smelled wonderful.

“They’ll hire you on the spot. Even if you weren’t qualified, the need for a male therapist coupled with the overwhelming need for more therapists in general... There’s basically nothing you could do to not get hired.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Chanyeol laughed and pulled away to grab a large metal suitcase. “This is mine.”

“You’ll crush it,” Baekhyun said. “Ready to hit the road?”

Chanyeol grabbed Baekhyun’s hand and nodded. “How far is it again?”

“It’s about an hour and a half,” Baekhyun answered, leading them out of the airport. “If there’s anything special you want, we may need to stop somewhere here for it. I’m afraid we’re a bit podunk.”

Chanyeol laughed and followed. “I’m sure we’ll be fine. I’m only here for a few days anyway.”

“Longer when you get the job.” Baekhyun looked around the parking lot for his car.

“If I get it,” Chanyeol replied.

Baekhyun gestured at his car and popped the trunk. “When. When you get it.”

They filled the ride to Baekhyun’s house singing along to the playlist Baekhyun had made that reminded him of their time in college. Baekhyun loved how, regardless of the time spent apart, they were able to slip back into each other’s lives as if they hadn’t been apart. He was glad to have a chance to spend time with Chanyeol, someone he still considered one of his best friends.

“This is it,” Bakehyun said as he pulled into the driveway of a modest ranch house. “It’s not much, but it’s home.”

Chanyeol looked at the house as they climbed out. “I’m sure it’s wonderful.”

“Sehun should be moved into his new place by the time you move here, so you can stay here until you find your own place,” Baekhyun said, letting Chanyeol into the house. “We both thought he’d be in already.”

Chanyeol took in the house. He had seen bits of it during video chats with Baekhyun, but it was nice to see it in person.

“If I move here. They might hate me.”

Baekhyun shook his head and offered Chanyeol a pair of slippers.

“They’ll love you. Anyway, once he’s moved out, you’ll have a room to stay in. Until then, unfortunately, you’ll be stuck sharing with me.”

“It’s hardly the first time,” Chanyeol replied, placing his shoes in the storage rack. “At least now you’ve got more than a twin bed.”

Baekhyun laughed as he thought about the semester they had spent squished on a twin bed in an attempt to save money and maximize the space they had.

“Never again. I was so glad when Junmyeon graduated at semester.”

“Especially when he insisted on paying rent to keep us from trying to squeeze another person in,” Chanyeol said.

Baekhyun laughed again. “I’m pretty sure Minseok would’ve snapped if had we after living with Jun’s mess.”

Chanyeol followed him down the hall. “How they managed for two years, I’ll never know.”

“That’s my studio, there’s room for all your equipment...well, not the drums but we could always figure out a space.” Baekhyun pointed at the first door on their right as they came down the hallway. “There’s a half bath here across the hall with the shower and tub between it and the other half bath.”

They stopped at the end of the hallway and Baekhyun gestured at the closed door to the left. “That’s Sehun’s room, soon to be yours. Then I’m across the hall.”

Chanyeol followed him into the doorway to their right. “You’re so confident they’ll hire me. I wish I was half as sure.”

Baekhyun shrugged. “I know you. I know them. I know the needs. You’ll be a great fit. Plus, I’m putting it out there because I very selfishly want my best friend to live in the same place as me again.”

“Fair enough.” Chanyeol laughed and looked around the room. There wasn’t much furniture: a king size bed, a dresser, and a 50 inch television mounted to the wall across from the bed. It felt like Baekhyun though. “Plus you’re afraid to live alone.”

“I’m not afraid to live alone,” Baekhyun exclaimed.

“Sure you’re not.” Chanyeol laughed.

“I’m not!” Baekhyun insisted. “I’m just a social person and I like to have people around the house.”

“Well, if they hire me, I’ll take you up on your offer to stay here,” Chanyeol said. “It’d be fun to live together again.”

Baekhyun nodded in agreement. “Just like old times. Except instead of getting wasted on a Tuesday, we go to bed at a reasonable time.”

Chanyeol laughed. “How very exciting.”

“That’s how we roll,” Baekhyun laughed again. “Do you want to take a shower or anything? We’ve got about an hour before everyone gets here.”

Chanyeol nodded. “That sounds like a good idea. Get some of that airplane funk off.”

“Okay, cool. There’s clean towels above the toilet.” Baekhyun gestured at the closet. “You can store your luggage in there...there’s room to hang stuff if you need. And I’ll be in the living room setting up if you need anything.”

“Great, thanks, Baekie.”

Baekhyun smiled and left the room to give Chanyeol his privacy. He wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt nervous, but he did his best to put it out of his mind. It didn’t take much to get ready for the night, but it gave him something to do. He went into the pantry and pulled out cups and plates. There were snack trays and drinks in the garage fridge but he didn’t want to put them out until people started to arrive.

“Honey, we’re home!” Sehun shouted as he came into the house with their friend Jongin.

Baekhyun set down the plates. “Just in time. Chanyeol’s in the shower. I’m getting things set up.”

Jongin appeared from around the corner. “I can’t believe I’m finally going to meet the infamous Chanyeol Park.”

“When are you going to tell him you love him?” Sehun asked.

Baekhyun pushed him. “Shut up! He could hear you.”

Sehun shrugged. “Good. He should know.”

“There’s nothing he needs to know,” Baekhyun replied. “If you’re going to be bratty, at least help me set up.”

“You should tell him,” Sehun said.

“Go get the trays and drinks from the fridge. And quit being an asshole or I’ll drink your beer.”

Two hours later the group was gathered in the living room.

“We should play a game,” Sehun said, grabbing another beer.

Baekhyun shrugged. “What kind of game?”

Sehun smiled. “Truth or dare.”

“How old are you again?” Baekhyun rolled his eyes and took a drink of his water. He wasn’t much of a drinker and was trying to pace himself.

“Never Have I Ever,” Jongin suggested.

Amber, one of the therapists from the agency and one of Baekhyun’s closest friends, laughed. “Even better! It’ll give us a chance to get to know Chanyeol.”

“Can’t we just play Cards Against Humanity or Azn Flush?” Baekhyun asked.

Hazel shook her head. “I’m not playin Azn Flush with you again. It’s not fair.”

Baekhyun made a face. “I’ve told you isn’t our fault you aren’t Asian. You’re a bad Koreaboo.”

Chanyeol laughed. “Let’s just play Never Have I Ever, Baekie.”

Baekhyun pouted. “They’re just trying to get me drunk.”

“I’ll go first,” Sehun replied. “Never have I ever experimented to see my sexual orientation.”

Everyone except Hazel took a drink. “You always forget I’m the token straight girl. I’ll go next. Never have I ever watched an episode of Keeping Up With the Kardashians.”

Chanyeol was the only one not to drink that round and took his turn. “Never have I ever really liked a Justin Bieber song.”

Baekhyun glared at Chanyeol. “This isn’t fair!”

Jongin laughed. “I’ll go. Never have I ever sent nudes.”

“I hate you.” Baekhyun retorted, continuing to glare.

It went like this for another ten rounds, with Sehun keeping a close eye on Baekhyun’s glass and refilling it whenever it looked like it was close to empty. Baekhyun could feel himself getting tipsy as he took a drink each round.

“Never have I ever had a crush on someone I lived with,” Amber said.

Sehun went next after they had taken their drinks. “Never have I ever had feelings for someone in this room.”

Baekhyun finished his drink and stood up. “That’s it for me.”

Chanyeol stood up and took his empty cup to the kitchen. “Me too, I think. It’s been a long day.”

“It’s great to finally meet you,” Amber said. “I look forward to working with you.”

“It’s great to meet you too,” Chanyeol replied. “You’re all so sure they’ll hire me.”

Baekhyun waved his hand at Chanyeol. “They’re gonna snap you up before another agency has the chance. Amber and I like you so they basically have to hire you.”

Amber laughed. “It’s true. They value our opinions highly.”

“You guys are welcome to stay, you know where the extra bedding is,” Baekhyun said. “Feel free to keep hanging out.”

They all said their good nights, and Chanyeol followed Baekhyun to his bedroom. Baekhyun was barely through the door before he began to strip down to his boxers, leaving his clothes in a heap on the floor. Chanyeol followed and left his clothes on the floor next to Baekhyun’s. Once in his boxers, Baekhyun collapsed onto the bed.

“Don’t you want to brush your teeth and wash your face, Baekie?” Chanyeol asked, much more sober than his friend.

Baekhyun shook his head and pulled the blankets over him. “Too sleepy. Come snuggle me, Loey.”

Chanyeol smiled. “Let me wash up and I will.”

Ten minutes later Chanyeol climbed into the bed next to Baekhyun who immediately wrapped himself around the taller man.

“I love you,” Baekhyun mumbled against Chanyeol’s chest.

Chanyeol hugged him close and whispered, “I love you too, Baekie.”

Baekhyun woke up the next morning, still wrapped around Chanyeol. He froze as he remembered he had told Chanyeol he loved him. It wasn’t the first time the pair had told each other they loved one another, Baekhyun just hoped Chanyeol didn’t realize the different type of love he had meant when he said it. Baekhyun squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face in Chanyeol’s chest. He was nearly back to sleep when he felt Chanyeol run his fingers through his hair.

“I wish I could wake up to this every day,” Chanyeol said in a low voice, Baekhyun felt his voice rumble through his chest and froze. “I wish you weren’t in love with Sehun.”

Baekhyun lifted his head, confused. “What are you talking about? I’m not in love with Sehun.”

Chanyeol swore, startled. “I thought you were still asleep.”

“What makes you think I’m in love with Sehun?” Baekhyun questioned.

Chanyeol looked up at the ceiling. “Last night, you drank because you’d had a crush on someone you lived with. And because you’ve had feelings for someone in the room. Then you couldn’t wait to leave the room.”

Baekhyun rolled his eyes and poked Chanyeol in the side. “I’ve lived with you...and had-have feelings for you.”

“Me?” Chanyeol looked at Baekhyun, unsure. “You...you have feelings for me?”

“...yes.” Baekhyun blushed. “I’ve been in love with you since like midway through freshman year.”

Chanyeol laughed. “Why didn’t you say anything?!”

Baekhyun sat up and moved away from Chanyeol. “It’s not funny! What was I supposed to say? What if you didn’t feel the same? You’re my best friend, Chanyeol, I couldn’t risk it.”

Chanyeol grabbed Baekhyun’s hand. “I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing at how ridiculous we both are. Baekhyun, I’ve liked you since our first week of freshman year when you didn’t tease me for being homesick and crying myself to sleep.”

Baekhyun punched Chanyeol in the arm. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“For the same reason you didn’t. I was afraid you wouldn’t feel the same,” he replied.

“Well I demand you take me to breakfast to make up for making me suffer all these years,” Baekhyun said.

Chanyeol laughed. “I can do that.”

“I can’t believe you’ve lived here a year and still haven’t unpacked everything, Sehun,” Jongin said as he refilled his drink.

Chanyeol shook his head. “It won’t be a year for like two more months. He moved out right before I moved in.”

Jongin raised an eyebrow and shook his head. “No, he moved in in August because it was hot as fuck. Baekhyun nearly passed out.”

“I interviewed in October.” Chanyeol looked at Sehun then at Baekhyun who avoided his eyes. “Baekhyun? You told me Sehun was still living with you when I interviewed and that’s why we had to share a bed. Sehun, you slept there.”

Sehun laughed into his drink. “Did I?”

Chanyeol looked at Baekhyun again. “Baekhyun! When did Sehun move out?”

Baekhyun bit his lip. “...August?”

Jongin cackled. “Did you seriously pull the ‘there’s only one bed’ thing on him?”

Baekhyun shot him a dirty look. “Shut up! I didn’t know how to tell him how I felt.”

Chanyeol laughed and pulled Baekhyun to him. “You’re lucky I love you, Baekie.”

Baekhyun curled into him. “I love you too.”

Jongin and Sehun pretend to gag but Baekhyun ignored them and pressed a kiss to Chanyeol’s shoulder. His small lie had been worth it.

#exolssecretsanta20 #exo #Chanyeol #Baekhyun #isearchedtheyooniverse #fanfic

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walkerismychoice · 4 years

Text

Unwritten - Chapter 3

Book: Platinum

Pairing: M!Raleigh X MC

Rating: This series will contain mature themes. Any necessary warnings will be listed before each chapter, but the overall series rating is 18+

Series Summary: Newly discovered talent Aria Campbell get unknowingly assigned to help write Raleigh Carerra’s latest album and rehabilitate his image in the process.

Summary: Aria is ready to start writing. Raleigh? Not so much.

Chapter Warning: Hints at excessive drinking/alcohol abuse

Word Count: 1750

Master List

She should really go back out there and try to start writing. They only have six weeks to write enough songs to fill an entire album. Then again, six weeks is kind of a long time. What’s a little bit longer?...

Aria picks up the flip phone from her nightstand. She would just text, because who actually likes to talk on the phone anymore, but texting without a keyboard is hardly worth the effort. Seriously, why do they still make cell phones like this? Her finger hovers over the call button momentarily, and then makes the call.

Several rings go by before Aria hears an agitated voice on the end of the other end of the line. "How many times do I have to tell you to take me off your list? How can my car warranty be expired when I don't even own a car?"

"Shane! Wait, don't hang up," Aria pleads into the phone. "It's me!"

"Aria? What are you-" His angry tone gives way to confusion. "Whose number is this and where are you? Wait, are you doing your writing thing? Tell me who you are writing with - is it Avery Willshire?"

If only, she think to herself, hesitating a moment before replying. "I can't tell you that. It's in my contract. If it were to get out, they'd kill me."

"Who are they, the mob?" Shane chuckles. "How many years have we been friends? You know you can trust me. And besides, I had to sign an NDA to be on your contact list, if you go down. I'm going down with you."

"Well that's reassuring," she answers dryly. Sure Shane's in film school and could be the next big director, but as of right now he's unknown, and Aria's got a lot more to lose. But he's right. They tell each other everything and she knows she can trust him. "Fine. But you can't tell anyone."

"Promise."

Aria inhales sharply. “It's...Raleigh Carrera."

"No fucking way!" Shane practically screams into the phone. "Binge drinking, property destroying, R&B singing Raleigh Carrera? You writing for him is...unexpected."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." She replies dryly.

“Ari, you know what I mean. You're more indie pop, with meaningful lyrics. He sings about getting laid in the club. You've never so much as had a tardy at school, and he's got quite the bad boy reputation.”

"Yes, Shane, I know I'm a boring, wholesome girl from the Midwest.”

“No, no! I just don’t want you to have to sacrifice your integrity. It can’t be easy to make sure your voice is heard with with someone like that.”

“I’m a big girl. I can handle myself,” Aria asserts trying more to convince herself than anyone else. It’s not like she hasn’t feared what Shane has said and more ever since she got here. But she’s determined to fake it until she makes it as they say.

"I know you are. I've seen it in action - like when you dumped that smoothie on Chad's head because he made a comment about your ass."

"Oh my god. I can't believe I didn't get fired for that." Aria laughs genuinely for probably the first time today.

They continue on their path down memory lane until Aria's cheeks hurt from smiling, and she finally says goodbye.

"Maybe I should just call mom first," she ponders out loud before thinking better of it. Things ended on a high note with Shane, and she doesn't need get all homesick and weepy right now. She supposes it's time to face the music - literally.

Aria peeks in the open doorway across the hall, and Raleigh's room is empty. She checks the main areas downstairs, but all is quiet. Finally she looks out the the beachside picture window to see a human form spread out on the sand.

As she heads out and towards the beach, she makes out a familiar object next to Raleigh and rolls her eyes. Apparently he has no plans to fully sober up before starting to drink again.

His eyes are closed as she approaches, and when she calls out his name, he doesn't stir. She won't shake him awake because that feels a touch too intimate for someone she just met. Especially someone of his status, lying their shirtless in the sand, a sheen of sweat glazing over the tattoos covering his neck and torso. Ugh stop ogling him, she thinks to herself. You hate tattoos and he's an ass. Aria grabs the bottle of rum and jabs him in the side.

"Huh?" Raleigh jolts upright and frantically looks whips his head around until he gets his bearings. "Oh, it's you." He grabs the bottle from her and takes long swig.

"Bacardi straight from the bottle in the middle of the day? Doing your best to live up to the cliché rockstar lifestyle, huh?” She immediately regrets the words and wonders if she went too far.

He shrugs it off with a laugh and points the bottle at her. "Want some?"

"No." She scrunches her nose and shakes her head. Sipping straight out of the bottle is not her style. Not to mention they're supposed to be working and she prefers to write with a clear head.

"I guess Learning How to Party Like a Rock Star 101 is not part of a music major’s curriculum. You could use some real-world instruction from Professor Carrera." Raleigh teases.

"Haha, very funny.” Wait, how does he know she majored in music? Probably just a lucky guess. "Anyway, I came out here to see if you wanted to get started."

"Nah, I'm good." He takes another pull from the bottle. "I like to write when the mood strikes. If you're so moved though, feel free to whip something up on your own. I really don't give a shit what's on this crap album anymore."

Her blood is boiling now, and she fights a juvenile urge to kick sand in his face and stomp away. "That's not how this works. If they wanted me to just write everything on my own, I could have done so from the comfort of my own home rather than being stuck here with you."

And there it is again - that mischievous twinkle in Raleigh's eye. And before she has much time to worry about what it means, Raleigh's up and scooping her off her feet. He runs towards the water as Aria yells at him to put her down to no avail, and once the water level reaches his knees, a wave hits, sending them toppling under.

Before Aria can get her bearings, she feels Raleigh’s firm grasp pulling her upright. She wipes the seawater from her eyes to see Raleigh standing there with a big shit-eating grin, his hands still bracing her arms to keep her steady. Maybe if she wasn’t so pissed off at his antics she’d notice the slight tingle where her skin was touched by his, but then again she might just attribute that to the chill from the cool water.

She shrugs out of his hold with an exasperated groan. “Why are you such an asshole? I know you don’t want to be here with me, but this wasn’t my idea. You don’t have to take it out on me.”

“Relax, Ice Queen. I’m just trying to thaw you out a bit. We’ll both have a much better time here if you can learn to have fun.”

“Ugh! I’m not..” That remark cuts Aria deep, more than Raleigh could possibly know. “Maybe if you actually agreed to do some work with me, I’d be more in the mood to have some fun.

Raleigh looks her up and down with an undiscernible expression that makes her uneasy before plopping back down on his towel and putting his sunglasses on. “We’ll just have to see about that.”

Fiona looks up from her laptop and spots Raleigh and Aria emerging from the ocean and engaging in what looks to be an intense conversation. The guest house has a spacious wraparound porch with cushy patio furniture. If she’s got to be stuck somewhere on glorified babysitting duty, as if she’s got no other clients and nothing better to do, it’s not a terrible place to be. At least there’s wifi and she can keep working on her projects with other artists on the label.

She’d been skeptical, to put it mildly, when Ellis brought Aria in to discuss working with Raleigh, and based on his initial reaction this morning, she wouldn’t have been surprised if Aria had tried to quit on the spot. Sure Raleigh getting wasted on the beach and throwing his writing partner in the water day one would look bad by anyone else’s standards, but Fiona’s know him a long time. The fact that that he’s engaging at all is a good sign. Maybe that little chat she had with him earlier stuck.

“Looks like things are going as well as can be expected with those two.” Fiona muses aloud. Hank stands and watches attentively, arms folded across his chest. You’d think he was guarding the President with how serious he takes his job. There’s not another human in sight aside from the four of them. He weighs his words before responding. “It seems so, ma’am.”

“Eww, don’t call me ma’am.” Fiona visibly shudders. “We’ve worked together for years now. You can call me Fiona. And anyway, nobody is around. You don’t have to take your job so seriously here. Why don’t you go grab a beer.”

Frank tugs at the knot in his tie. Yes, he’s still wearing his suit and tie - at the beach. “Drinking on the job would be unprofessional, ma-, I mean Fiona.”

"Okay then," she utters under her breath. It says something that self-described workaholic Fiona is the fun one here, but if she's going to make it through this period of time without dying of boredom, getting Frank to loosen up might just be the side-project she needs. Maybe he'll even take his tie off at some point. Fiona looks back to the beach where Raleigh is sunbathing and Aria is nowhere to be seen. "Would it be unprofessional of me to run out there and smack him upside the head?"

"Yes, I believe so," he replies dryly, but Fiona can detect the corners of his mouth curving upward ever so slightly. There might be hope for him yet.

#playchoices fanfic #platinum #raleigh carrera #raleigh x mc #fiona x hank #tw alcohol

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goodomensblog · 5 years

Text

Afterward - Part 10

A Good Omens Choose Your Own Adventure Fic

Here’s how it works:

I’ll write a scene.

At the end of each scene, you’ll be presented with 2-3 options for what the characters will choose to do next.

Comment or reblog to vote for your choice. I’ll count all votes after the first 24 hours after each update is posted.

Read: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9

(#1 won this round! It’s heist timeeee)

Afterward - - Part 10

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

“...so, in summation, we, well - slightly bent the rules and kept the jar of Hellfire.”

“How?”

“Swapped out the real jar with a fake and,” Gabriel shrugs, “the demon didn’t notice when he brought it back. Truthfully, the poor guy seemed a little-,” he stops, awkwardly grimacing as he taps a finger against his head.

“Idiot,” Beelzebub hisses, fingers curling, piercing the couch with jagged holes.

Gabriel waves a hand, and the shredded couch knits together.

“Works out for us though,” Crowley says.

Beelzebub, slumping in exhaustion, manages a nod. Extending a sharp nail, they reach out, poking a fresh hole in the newly repaired couch.

Aziraphale, glancing down, presses a staying hand on Beelzebub’s wrist.

“Rest,” he counsels. “Save your energy. We don’t know how long it will take Gabriel to return with the Hellfire.”

‘Me?”

Three sets of eyes are, at once, glaring at the Archangel.

“Obviously,” Crowley says, breaking the silence.

“Hey - I already told you it was here. I could have easily kept that to myself.”

“You are literally the only one here who can get it,” Crowley replies, incredulous.

“Yeah, well, I’m not going to,” Gabriel says, crossing his arms. “You all don’t even know what’s been going on in Heaven today. Frankly, it’s a mess. In fact, I should be out there right now, you know, doing my job. People are on high alert. It’s a whole thing. Even I couldn’t just walk on in and take the Hellfire.”

“Gabriel,” Beelzebub says, forcing their weak voice loud. “I’m not - I’m not asking you for a favor. I know - I know you wouldn’t - If you do this, I’ll pay up - I’ll pay up later. You know I’m good for it,” Beelzebub hisses, forehead creasing in pain. “Anything. Just - ugh,” shivering, the demon heaves a wheezing breath and goes quiet.

Their dark gaze turns up, dull and half-lidded, as if they already know what the Archangel’s answer will be.

Gabriel had listened, holding himself rigid, posture perfectly straight. And now that Beelzebub has silenced, Gabriel turns his head down, nostrils flaring. He shakes his head.

“I cannot-”

“You can. And you will,” Aziraphale interrupts.

Gabriel turns at the interruption, lips curling into a sneer.

Aziraphale, bracing his hands on the couch, presses up. Beelzebub watches him rise, dark eyes unreadable.

Hands fisted at his sides, Aziraphale turns. Standing straight, he looks at Gabriel, head tilted to meet his eyes.

“You’ll retrieve the Hellfire. Because Beelzebub is dying. And it is within your power to save them. And because,” and when Aziraphale pauses, drawing a breath, his wings flicker in and out of existence on this plane - and they don’t look quite right - but they’re gone before Crowley can see more than a glance.

“It is the right thing to do,” Aziraphale finishes, head held high.

“You don’t get to decide what is right-”

“I just did,” Aziraphale snaps. His fists are trembling.

Crowley, circling around Gabriel, curls his fingers, knuckles cracking as nails shift to claws. “I’d listen to the angel, Archangel.”

“Fighting will draw attention. Thought you wanted to avoid that, seeing as you are a traitor,” Gabriel says, shifting to keep both angel and demon within sight.

“Oh, I would prefer it, yes. However, I’m starting to think Heaven might be otherwise occupied today. What did you call it? A mess?” Aziraphale asks, stepping into a stance Crowley recognizes. Last time he’d stood like this, he was holding a flaming sword. “So I’m wondering if they’d notice a power surge at all. Especially from the residence of an Archangel.”

Shivers climb Crowley’s spine, because this is a side of Aziraphale he doesn’t get to see very often. Smiling, sharp as a knife, Crowley prowls, matching Aziraphale’s stance.

“Just say the word, Aziraphale,” Crowley calls, gleeful.

He does usually prefer more creative methods to outright violence. But for Gabriel, who sent Aziraphale to burn with a cold, guiltless smile, Crowley is happy to make an exception.

“I don’t want to drag you into this, Crowley,” Aziraphale says, eyes on Gabriel as he circumvents the coffee table.

“Please angel, you’d have to drag me out of it.”

Crowley is moving opposite Aziraphale, keeping the Archangel perfectly between them.

Gabriel spins, trying to face both of them at once.

“You have a choice to make, Gabriel,” Aziraphale calls.

“I can take you. Both of you,” Gabriel replies, the nervous edge in his voice undercutting his bold words.

“Maybe,” Aziraphale says - as Crowley calls out:

“Can you though?”

Violet eyes flick back and forth between them - and then to Beelzebub, pale and sunken on the couch.

Crowley is almost disappointed to see the fight go out of him.

Tension bleeding from his rigid spine, Gabriel shrinks back. Letting out a string of sharp, ancient curses, Gabriel drags a hand down his face.

“Fine,” he says, vitriolic. “But I am not touching that damned jar. Someone will have to risk coming with me.”

Cold eyes look to Crowley.

“Fine by me.”

Aziraphale, gaping, scurries between them. “No - no. Not fine.” Eyes wide, Aziraphale turns on Crowley. “You are not going out there. Not with him.”

“I can probably disguise myself well enough for a quick trip to the - er, wherever. Like Lil’ Gabbie said-”

“That is not my name.”

“Like Gabbers said, Heaven’s preoccupied today,” Crowley shrugs - and it has not escaped his notice that Gabriel has yet to reveal what precisely has Heaven so worked up.

“They won’t notice me if I take steps to conceal myself. Besides,” and here Crowley pauses, lowering his voice. “Best someone keeps an eye on our favorite Archangel anyway. Ensure he doesn’t make any extra stops along the way.”

“I’m right here. I can hear literally everything you’re saying.”

Crowley, casually flicking his middle finger over Aziraphale’s shoulder, continues.

“Really angel. I’ll be fine. More than fine once I get my hands on the Hellfire.”

Behind Aziraphale, Gabriel shifts, his already rigid posture stiffening.

“Yeah, stop that. I’m not going to waste it on your sorry ass, Archangel.”

“Try it and I’d smite you where you stood.”

And then Aziraphale is turning, and the air is vibrating around them.

“Touch him and I swear to God that I will end you, Gabriel,” Aziraphale says, the terrible timbre of truth resounding with a buzzing pressure, laying weight to his every word.

Crowley’s skin is prickling - in reaction to both the gathering power and Aziraphale’s words; heart in his throat, he reaches out, placing a staying hand on Aziraphale’s arm.

Electricity sparks between them. It is red - no blue, no, it’s black and white and silver and gold and -

Angel and demon start, pulling apart.

The electricity fizzles out, curling and twisting into nothing, like smoke from a doused flame.

Crowley glances up, meeting Aziraphale’s startled gaze.

“What…?”

“I don’t know,” Aziraphale answers, pale and hushed.

Behind them, Gabriel heaves a deep, exhausted sigh.

“You two had to go fuck up something else, didn’t you?”

“We didn’t-” Aziraphale starts, bristling - then halts, glancing down at his wrist.

Crowley turns his own wrist over, inspecting the cut that is, by now, nearly healed.

“Huh.”

“Yeah huh. Look, I’ll deal with whatever fuckery you two managed to create later. You want the Hellfire or not?” Gabriel glances, as if on impulse, back at the couch.

Beelzebub’s eyes have drifted closed.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale says, turning.

“I’ll be back before you know it, angel. Promise,” Crowley says, and believes it - because lying to his angel about something like this would be unforgivable.

As if he can feel the truth, resonant, in Crowley’s words, Aziraphale stops. Lips pressing together, he looks Crowley up and down. Brows curving, concerned skin wrinkling between them, he says, chin quivering, “Crowley, I-”

“Are we going or not? Come on.”

Crowley reaches out, brushing his knuckles over the back of Aziraphale’s hand. There are no sparks, but Aziraphale, nonetheless, shivers beneath the touch.

“Don’t open the door for anyone, angel,” Crowley says, and with a snap, shifts his body.

The Archangel Michael stands, slouching, in the center of the room. Pursing golden lips, Crowley removes his dark glasses.

“Seriously,” Gabriel says, flat and exhausted, “What happens if we run into the real one?”

Hands on his hips, Crowley shrugs, arching one of Michael’s manicured brows.

“I am the real one. I’m walking around with the Archangel fucking Gabriel. The other one’s clearly the impostor.”

Eyes rolling to the ceiling, Gabriel heaves a deep breath. “Fine. Let’s just -”

Beelzebub, reaching out, grabs hold of Gabriel’s pants.

“Ten minutes,” Beelzebub says, voice quieter than a whisper. “Think I can last...ten more minutes. Understand....asshole?”

Gabriel’s expression is impossible to read. Lips pressing together in a hard, flat line, he drags his leg loose of Beelzebub’s grasp.

“Hey,” Gabriel calls with a sharp look toward Crowley and Aziraphale. “Is this happening, or not?”

Crowley, flicking his fingers in a mocking salute, gives Aziraphale one last lingering look.

“Be back soon, angel.”

“I believe you,” Aziraphale says. Eyes wide, and hands wringing in front of him, he watches as Crowley step up to the door.

“Gabriel,” Aziraphale calls as the door swings open. “What I said earlier - I meant it. Don’t lay a hand on him.”

Gabriel, casting a withering glance back into the apartment, slams the door.

Tapping a heel against gleaming marble floor, Crowley turns a long look at the arching halls.

Heaven.

“Try not to sully it with your sin,” Gabriel says, and sets off at a brisk pace down the hall.

Crowley, sneering at the back of his head, flips him off with Michael’s manicured hand, and strides purposefully after.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

After six thousand years, Crowley again walks Heaven’s halls….

A fun one this time! Choose how much energy Crowley will devote to “getting along” with Gabriel on their Hellfire acquisition mission:

0% energy - Crowley will be 100% bastard. Because Gabriel is the actual worst and he deserves it.

50% energy - Crowley will be reasonably civil - unless Gabriel is really asking for it. They do have limited time, but Crowley isn’t about to let Gabriel walk all over him.

100% energy - Crowley promised Aziraphale that he would return unscathed. If he has to play nice with Gabriel to ensure his safe return, he will.

Comment or reblog to vote :) (ALSO thank you all so much for voting and participating in this! I just absolutely love reading your thoughts behind why you are voting for any given option.)

Read Part 11 Here

#my writing #good omens fic #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfic #ineffable husbands #ineffable husbands fanifction #ineffable husbands fanfic #ineffable husbands fic #aziraphale #crowley #good omens beelzebub #good omens gabriel #ineffable bureaucracy #eventually maybe #good omens #HELLFIRE HEAVEN HEIST IS A GO

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kieraswriting · 5 years

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Masterpost

Thomas was having a down day. Which meant that Patton’s day was positively awful.

He had hidden in his room, but even his room couldn’t seem to beat off the pressure that weighed on his mind. There was something… something that he knew could help. Had helped already, just by thinking of it. It was chancy, but…

Patton checked on Thomas, but Thomas seemed fine. He was working, if rather slowly, and he had told a friend that he wasn’t feeling well, so he wasn’t isolating himself.

Patton thought about it a bit more. He knew that it wouldn’t fix anything, not really, and that for that he really ought to ask the other sides for help, but… he didn’t want to. They had their own problems when Thomas felt down, and he didn’t want to add to them. And… he wasn’t sure, if he asked, that he’d know what to ask for, or if the sides would give it to him if he figured out.

The pressure increased, causing an almost physical pain, and that was enough to make up his mind. Patton shifted into his puppy form.

He was a fully grown dog, at least as far as he could tell, but puppy form still seemed the more appropriate name to give it. He jumped onto his bed and nosed his head under the pillow. The pressure didn’t decrease, but all the sharp ends smoothed out, and it was a bit easier to imagine that all it was was that he’d like someone to pet him or play with him.

He thumped his tail on the bed once. Twice. Hoping that acting happy would make him feel happier. It didn’t really work.

••^*^••

Patton was woken from his doze by the ringing of Thomas’s phone. Thomas didn’t want to answer it. He did glance at the screen, and see that it was the same friend he had talked to earlier.

Patton couldn’t speak to Thomas while in this form, but he could send some pretty accurate feelings across. He sent a ‘they’re probably worried about you’, and felt Virgil send out a ‘don’t waste their time’ and also a contradictory ‘don’t pick up the phone’. Soon the other sides chimed in, and in the confusion, the phone call went to voicemail.

Patton thought that at least Thomas could listen to the voicemail, even if he didn’t actually call back. This sentiment was echoed by several, and Thomas picked up the phone.

“Hey, Thomas, just wanted to check up on you. Are you feeling any better? I could come over and we could watch movies if you want.”

Despite his personal desire for Thomas to spend the day by himself, Patton thought that it would be rude to refuse such a kind offer. Unfortunately, with things being just a bit muddled in this form, the feeling he sent out had both of his impulses, and wasn’t very clear.

This set up the other sides to arguing whether Thomas should have his friend over or not. Deceit wanted Thomas to say no, and keep the day for himself. Virgil wanted Thomas to say yes, mostly because if he didn’t it might make him a bad friend. Roman and Remus didn’t care much either way. They both were in quite a funk and feeling rather dreary in general. Logan was the swing vote, and he did swing, from one position to the other and back again.

Patton knew that if he was up there Logan would be at least three quarters on Deceit’s side, and that he would be at least three quarters on Virgil’s side. But he couldn’t seem to shift back to human. And oddly enough, he couldn’t bring himself to be too upset about it. Even if he went up, the tie would remain. There would still be the same argument, only he would have to be taking an active role in it.

He also knew that his worry about the argument was likely why he couldn’t shift back. He shifted into puppy form to escape worries, and it frequently wouldn’t let go of him until the worries were gone.

For once, Patton decided to ignore the argument. He dug his face further underneath the pillow and let out a whine. If it could have just waited a bit longer he might have been able to handle it better. Even now, he had no idea what he intended to do if anyone addressed him personally.

••^*^••

Logan ran a hand through his hair. That had been miserable. He heard a door slam. Probably Virgil. He had seemed upset at the conclusion of the argument. But really, if he had won and Thomas’s friend had come over, it also would have made him miserable. Logan wasn’t sure why he was so upset.

Maybe Patton could help him.

Logan knocked on Patton’s door, realizing that he had hardly seen him at all that day. There was no answer from inside. He knocked once more, softly. There was a thumping noise from inside, but no voice saying whether or not he was allowed inside.

“Patton? Can I come in?” Logan asked.

There was no answer, but something made its way to the door, something that did not sound human.

‘Patton keeps pets?’ Logan wondered.

Then there was a click, and the door opened a crack, a dog pawing at it. If this was Patton’s pet, Logan couldn’t just let it leave the room. He stepped inside and shut the door behind him.

It was a large golden retriever, wagging its tail and looking up at him expectantly, but without the ‘smile’ Logan would have expected a pet of Patton’s to have.

“I suppose,” Logan said, sitting in a chair that was in the room. “That I will wait here with you for Patton to return.”

Thankfully, the dog didn’t jump all over him, but it did come over and rest its chin on his knee. Logan petted it tentatively, and was rewarded by a renewed wagging of its tail. He smiled at the dog, wondering how long he should wait before going in search of Patton.

For some reason, probably a side effect of being in Patton’s room, Logan felt very inclined to talking, and explained to the dog all about the argument, and how everyone had walked away more or less hurt by something another had said. The dog seemed to get sadder, as if in sympathy.

“Don’t worry,” Logan reassured the dog. “Once I find Patton he will be able to put everything back to right.”

The dog whined.

••^*^••

Patton felt even worse now. He should have gone up. He should be out there helping now. Logan had even come to find him, which meant that several of the other sides must really be hurting. But he couldn’t seem to shift back. He had tried so many times, and was exhausted. But Logan was still waiting. Waiting for him. Believing that he’d be able to fix everything.

Logan pet him again, and Patton leaned into the touch. It was the only good thing he could see out of this whole situation.

••^*^••

“I wonder,” Logan said out loud. “Are you a service dog?”

The dog cocked its head at him. It certainly was more intelligent than he had been led to believe dogs ought to be.

“If you are, and you’ve certainly seemed able to sense what little feelings I’ve exhibited, perhaps I should take you with me when I look for Patton. You help him, don’t you?”

The dog wagged its tail.

“Well, then, I suppose you will come with me. Now, do you have a leash?” Logan looked around, but found nothing of the sort. “If Patton trained you, are you capable of following common commands? In that case you wouldn’t need a leash.”

The dog wagged its tail again.

Logan’s first impulse was to try sit, but the dog was already sitting. “Lie down.”

The dog laid down, staring up at him. Its tail wagged again.

Logan smiled at it. Being Patton’s dog, it likely responded best to positive reinforcement. “Good boy.”

The dog wagged its tail harder than it had done yet.

Now, to see if the dog was really capable of coming outside. He was not going to chance letting the dog out and then losing it. “Heel.”

The dog padded over to stand by his side. That was close enough.

Logan walked out with the dog, who still followed him closely. Excellent.

Except that as they passed Roman’s door the dog stopped and whined, scratching at the door.

“No, that’s not—is Patton in there?”

Logan decided to give the dog a chance. He knocked on the door, which was unnecessary, as it was already being opened.

“What’s going on out here?” A grumpy Roman asked.

The dog sprang into action, becoming bright and cheerful and trying to jump up and lick Roman’s face.

“I apologize,” Logan hastened to say. “Get down boy. Down.”

“No, it’s fine,” Roman said, kneeling down and petting the dog. “He’s being sweet.” He rubbed the dog’s head and tousled its ears. “I didn’t know you had a dog.”

“I don’t. I believe that it is Patton’s dog.”

“Well that explains why he’s such a good boy!” Roman said, devolving into baby talk. “Aren’t you? Aren’t you such a good boy?”

The dog was wiggling all over and licking Roman, and Roman was laughing for the first time in days, further cementing in Logan’s mind that this was actually a service dog. Clearly the dog was able to gauge emotional states and respond accordingly.

“So why’d you come?” Roman asked.

“I was looking for Patton, but he is not in his room. When the dog stopped at your door, I thought perhaps he was here.”

“No, I haven’t seen him all day.” Roman hugged the dog to himself. “I can keep the dog with me until you find him, though.”

The dog barked, and squirmed out of Roman’s arms. He circled back to stand behind Logan.

“Thank you for the offer, but I will take it with me to find Patton.”

Roman looked disappointed, but he nodded and returned to his room. “Good luck.”

••^*^••

Patton felt a thrill of happiness run through him. Even stuck like this he had managed to cheer Roman up. He had even laughed! He hadn’t laughed in days, not for jokes nor Disney. Maybe this wasn’t so bad.

••^*^••

Once Roman’s door was shut the dog padded over to Virgil’s and whined, scratching at the door frame.

“No, we’re looking for Patton, not Virgil,” Logan said, worried at what might happen if they bothered Virgil in his current mood.

He tried pulling the dog away, but it was being very tenacious, and was no longer obeying his spoken commands.

There was a groan from inside and the door swung open. “What’s going on?” Virgil said.

“I apologize,” Logan started. “This dog—“ but it had slipped past Virgil and into his room.

“I’ll get it out,” Virgil sighed. “Come here, pupper.”

The dog barked, and wagged its tail, but wouldn’t come toward the door. Virgil went in after it, and it stood still long enough to let him pet it, but the minute he tried to move it towards the door it squirmed away.

••^*^••

Patton knew that Virgil would be harder. He probably also felt worse. He had to keep him in his room. If they were outside, Virgil wouldn’t stay. Not to mention, Logan could probably pull him away if he really tried. Then again, so could Virgil. And he was trying to.

Patton slipped away a few times, hoping that Virgil would give up and let him stay. But every time he was still enough for Virgil to pet, he’d try to grab him and pull him out.

What if it never worked? What if Virgil kicked him out and stayed upset? It would be all his own fault for getting stuck like this.

Patton wasn’t sure he could handle that. He whined and hid underneath the bed.

“Is everything alright?” Logan asked from the doorway.

“Fine,” Virgil said his voice gravely. “I think my room might be getting to him, though.”

Virgil laid down next to the bed on his stomach and reached a hand towards Patton.

Patton licked the ends of his fingers, not daring to get much closer, but unwilling to let Virgil think even for a second that he didn’t love him.

“Hey, buddy,” Virgil called in a soothing voice. “Come on this way. I’ve got you.”

Patton shuffled forward enough to poke his nose underneath Virgil’s hand.

“Good boy! Good boy.” Virgil said, still in the quiet, soothing voice. “Come on. A little closer.”

Patton scooted forwards a little more, but not enough that Virgil could pull him out. Virgil petted the little bit of him he could reach.

“Good boy. Come on. A little more.” Virgil turned his head. “Logan, what’s his name?”

“I don’t know. I believe that it is Patton’s dog. I was looking for him and found the dog instead.”

Virgil turned back to Patton, and even in the low light, Patton could see in his eyes that he had been found out.

“You can’t stay here,” Virgil said. “You know that. You’re already feeling the effects of my room.”

Patton let out a whine.

“If you come out, I’ll stay with you someplace else. Deal?”

Patton crawled out from under the bed.

“Good boy,” Virgil said again, stroking his hand along Patton’s head. “Come on out with me.”

Patton followed Virgil out of his room, wishing that dogs could sigh in relief as the fear drained out of his mind.

“I’ll take him with me and we’ll wait in the living room until you find Patton,” Virgil said.

When Patton didn’t make any move to follow Logan, he conceded and left.

Virgil sank down, taking Patton with him, and sitting on the couch in the living room. Patton jumped up on the couch and laid down on top of Virgil’s legs.

“So what’s going on?” Virgil asked. “Why are you hiding from Logan?”

Well, he wasn’t really trying to hide from Logan. But it wasn’t easy to explain yourself when you couldn’t talk. He put his head down between his paws. On top of that, he didn’t seem to be cheering Virgil up very much.

“It’s alright,” Virgil said soothingly. He ran a hand down Patton’s head and back.

Patton sighed. It was very sweet of Virgil, but it still made him feel even more wrong. He was supposed to help Virgil! Not the other way around.

“What’s the matter?” Virgil asked. “I’m going to guess you can’t talk like this. Is it Logan?”

Patton shook his head.

“Is it Roman?”

Patton shook his head again.

He could feel Virgil tensing up underneath him. “Is it me?”

Patton nodded, because it was the truth, but he hated the worry that bloomed in Virgil’s face.

“Why? What did I do? Are you angry at me for the argument? Is—“

He would have continued but Patton barked to snap him out of it, pressing his nose into Virgil’s face.

“You’re… not mad at me?”

Patton shook his head and licked Virgil’s chin.

Most of the worry faded from Virgil’s face.

“Alright. You aren’t mad at me, but you are upset, and it’s my fault.”

Patton gave a tiny growl and pushed Virgil again.

Virgil chuckled. “Fine. Not my fault then. But still something that has to do with me made you upset.”

Patton nodded.

“Is it… something to do with the argument earlier?”

Patton wasn’t sure if saying yes would be confusing, so he cocked his head to the side.

“Alright, um… was it the position I took?”

Patton shook his head.

“Was it the position the others took?”

Patton shook his head.

Virgil frowned and resumed his petting. “Oh! I’ve got it. You’re upset because we all left the argument upset with each other.”

Patton wagged his tail and nodded.

Virgil smiled, proud of himself. “That makes sense. So you came to try and cheer me up?”

Patron wagged his tail harder, putting on his happiest face and hoping it would work. .

Virgil chuckled again. “Yeah, you are doing a good job. Thanks, Pat.”

And then, Patton nearly burst with joy when Virgil was the one to hug him, and not the other way around. He leaned into the hug, willing every bit of love he could muster to pass into Virgil. It probably didn’t do anything, but he still thought that it could be felt at some level.

After several seconds, Virgil pulled back. “You know, I appreciate the thought, but you don’t have to shift into a dog to make me feel better.”

Patton tried to shift back, and was surprised to find himself human again, still sitting in Virgil’s lap. He hugged Virgil again. He said the first and only thing on his mind at that moment. “I love you.”

When Patton leaned back, Virgil’s face was darkly red.

“Y-yeah, um. Uh… thanks, I… I love you too,” Virgil sank out, right out from under Patton, leaving him alone on the couch.

Patton jumped up, filled with happy energy. His dark strange son had laughed, at least a little, and he had been cheered up, and he had said he loved Patton back!

It took him a few minutes to remember that Logan was still looking for him, and he should probably explain about the dog.

#patton sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #platonic moxiety #platonic logicality #platonic royality #more than the sum of our parts

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foolishlovebugbaby · 5 years

Text

skz’s reaction to their s/o having plump lips

requested by @0leelina0! thanks for sending this in, i felt so giddy writing it ehe i hope you like it!

side note: i don’t know what to do with myself anymore i-

bang chan

i feel like he’d absolutely love his s/o having plump lips

like at first he wouldn’t pay attention to your lips much (because let’s face it, he’d be too infatuated with the entirety of your face to just focus on your lips)

but the more you both got to know each other, the more he’d find himself staring at your lips whenever you spoke

he just loves watching them move

and it makes him absolutely weak in the knees whenever you kiss him on the cheek or just anywhere on his skin

and don’t get me started on how much he’d love to kiss them

he swears up and down he could makeout with you for an entire day

and he always tries to do so

“No, just a few more minutes,” He’d mumble against your lips as you attempted to pull away.

“Channie, I literally cannot breathe anymore.” You let out an airy laugh and he leaves a soft peck on your lips.

“That sounds like a you problem.”

Nsfw: he’s definitely into the whole lip-biting thing

and you giving him neck kisses is his biggest turn on omygod

lee know

minho knows that he’s got the prettiest lips on planet earth

but when he met you, he realised that although he may have the best lips on earth, you’ve got the best lips in the entire universe

a hard fact to accept, but my guy was too whipped for you to let it get to him

he’d absolutely love taking kissy face selfies with you

you both would make kissy faces at each other so often that it became second nature rather than an inside joke lmao

the first time you kissed his cheek, he swore he had died and gone to heaven and that an angel kissed him to wake him up

but then a cheek kiss turned into a lip one and there was no going back

he’d be obsessed with leaving lingering kisses on your lips, very slow and intimate yet firm

and sometimes he’d prefer it that way over intense, passionate ones

sometimes

because let me tell you, this man is k i n k y

Nsfw: definitely a lip biter like chan, and he’d savour each and every moment of your lips on his skin

“My lips are ten times bigger now than when we first started,” you chuckle in disbelief at your swollen lips

“Oopsies.” Minho says as he hugs you from the back, a smug and cheeky eye smile plastered all over his face.

changbin

your lips are definitely the first thing he notices when he meets you

he can’t help but stare; they’re so eye catching and pretty and god, his mind already wonders what it would be like to kiss them

just like himself, you have a habit of licking and biting your lips

whether it be out of nervousness or pure habit

but he finds it so endearing and attractive that he finds himself mimicking your actions every time you do so

he finds it incredibly sexy whenever you bite your lips

like, heart-stoppingly sexy

and he loves to run his thumb over your bottom lip whenever your face is in his hands

and leaving random, quick pecks on them whenever he has the chance

“We’re in public silly,” You jokingly scold him as he wraps his arms around your waist and peppers your lips with feathery kisses.

“I can’t help it, you’re too addicting.”

but when you two are alone, it’s a whole other story

Nsfw: he l o v e s to suck on your bottom lip when you both are making out

like, just the feeling of your lip between his all soft and plump makes his blood rush in ways that words can’t even describe

and running his tongue over your bottom lip makes him all woozy and delirious ugh

case in point: every makeout session is a steamy one.

hyunjin

hyunjin met his match the moment he laid eyes on your lips

like, he still can’t believe that someone could rival his full lips

but alas

even when you two started dating, he still remained humorously competitive about it

he’d go around asking his members which one of you had the better lips in the relationship

and everyone found it absolutely hilarious that he still wouldn’t let it go

being the weirdo he is, he has tons of photos of your lips in his camera roll

he tries to justify it by saying they’re for comparison when he makes other people choose who’s is better, but the reality is he just loves to stare at them when he misses you

what a sweet weirdo

“I got the most votes this time, pay up.” Hyunjin says smugly, puckering his lips for a victory kiss and you roll your eyes at his foolishness.

“I’m winning next time though,” You say and kiss him tenderly.

“I really don’t mind if the price to pay is kissing you.” He says sweetly when you pull away.

Nsfw: he seems like the kinky type, but i actually see him as more of a sweet, tender kisser rather than an intense one

intimate, long kisses just gets him going man what can i do

han

han loves to stare at your lips when you talk

he just finds them so captivating that it puts him in a trance

at first you thought he found your lips weird because his eyes were always trained on them

but then he revealed that it was only because he was smitten with the way you smiled and moved your lips

the amount of lyrics he’s written about your lips and how magical they are alone is either alarming or charming, but you’re not complaining

often times when you both are cuddling and just enjoying each others’ presence, he’d trace his finger around the contours of your lips

he finds everything about the way they’re shaped perfect and complimentary to the rest of your features, and he doesn’t keep his thoughts to himself

mans so whipped i love him

Nsfw: like changbin, he loves to suck on your bottom lip and tug on it playfully

especially when he’s ~in the mood~

but he also really enjoys long and firm kisses, minus all the tongue and antics because he just wants to pour all of his love for you into each kiss

“You drive me insane, you know that?” Han says with half-lidded eyes as you both pull away to catch your breaths.

“Does this mean i have better lips than Minho?” You say playfully.

“Oh shut up and kiss me you dork.”

felix

felix is just so sweet and precious that he’d be fixated on every single feature of yours

one week he’d focus on complimenting your eyes

the next your nose

but when he reached your lips???

he would not be able to shut up about them

he’d find them sosososos charming and would try and force you to make kissy faces at him just so that he can swiftly go to peck them and catch you by surprise

such a cheeky boi

he’d find kissing you so comforting and warm and just the epitome of tenderness, it makes him feel so calm and sound

“Each kiss feels just like the first.” He said just above a whisper against your lips.

“That’s funny, this is like the billionth kiss of the week.” You chuckle and he laughs only to bring you back in for another.

Nsfw: i’m here to retract all soft uwu’s because lee felix, 5 minutes into a makeout, can and will turn into an absolute beast

he’d be soooo into lip biting and just playing with your mouth with his own

and he’d be so passionate each time and ahodhofh i’m sorry i dont make the rules

seungmin

ohmygosh my sweet baby

he’s so precious that he would blush every time you’d catch him staring at your lips

even when you both started dating he’d still get all shy and red whenever you’d leave a kiss on his cheek or forehead or eyelids

but he absolutely loves it when you do so

he’s a sucker for affection, and your plump lips kissing all over his face would just make all the love feel even more amplified

he loves giving you short, sweet pecks out of the blue and seeing you blush sweetly whenever he does so makes him all giddy

and he’s always finding excuses to kiss you

“You’ve got some ice cream right,” He leans in close to your lips, “Here.” In a second his lips are on yours, his tongue sweeping over your bottom lip, and your whole face flushes.

“You could’ve just used a tissue.”

“Our climate is collapsing and you want to waste tissue? Could never be me.”

Nsfw: yall hear sumn?

i.n

he’s literally still in the womb what do i say

our sweet baby would not know what to do with himself when he starts being infatuated with you, let alone when he realises how charming your features are

he’d be so giddy and giggly around you

fooling around, squishing your lips between his fingers

and whenever your kiss him on the cheek, he would need an entire 10 minutes just to recover from it

don’t even get me started on a first kiss

like he’d honestly think he could die happy with the feeling of your pillowy lips on his

he’d be so gentle and happy with you and would always leave feathery kisses around your lips and on your cheeks

“S-stop, that tickles Jeongin,” You giggle while he peppers kisses around the corners of your mouth and on your jaw.

“Whoops,” He says cheekily and leaves a chaste kiss on your lips.

Nsfw: page does not exist

woojin

woojin would be such a gentleman that he’d remind you everyday of how beautiful every part of you is

your lips were never an insecurity but they weren’t your favorite feature either

but that all changed when woojin showed you so much tender love and care

he’s such a sweetheart man

he’d love to help you put on lipliner and lipstick just for fun because it ‘reminds me of art class’

“Kim Woojin, you overdrew my lips too much and now I look like a clown!” You scold him, red lipliner smudged all around your chin as you attempted to wipe it off.

“Well I think you look cute.” He says matter-of-factly, grabs your face and kisses you sweetly.

Whenever you’d fall asleep on his lap he’d leave tender kisses on our lips and just admire every inch of your face

im cryin i miss him

Nsfw: when mans is in the mood, mans is in the mood

kissing is his favorite form of foreplay hands down and would be so passionate and sometimes rough

but hey ain’t nobody complainin bout that

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purplesurveys · 4 years

Text

1040

survey by amandahudson48

When's the last time you said you were sorry? Maybe last Friday or yesterday? I haven’t been replying to Andi because I was in a slump, then when I was finally able to get back to them I made sure to apologize first and explain why it took me a while to respond.

Have you done anything interesting in the last week? I got to dine in at a restaurant again after nine months last Monday, and I brought my parents to treat them as well. The three of us had ramen, then I also treated them to frozen yogurt after. It felt nice to be out, but we also headed to a mall Gab and I used to regularly go to so everything ended up being too difficult to process and I was fighting tears the whole time at the ramen place.

Are there any songs you listen to everyday? I don’t think so. There have been a lot of days where I’ve avoided music altogether.

What do you consider a waste of time? Having to manually go to a government office nowhere near your house to queue for an ID or document when it could be done digitally, but you can’t and have no choice anyway because the agency’s website isn’t even working. In short, welcome to the Philippines where the government can steal billions but can’t maintain their own damn websites.

How do you react to stress? I tend to have a shorter fuse around people. So that I don’t accidentally lash out on anyone, I’ll bring myself to work on autopilot until I get a task done. If I find time to myself, I cry in private for a few minutes because stress sucks; then I try to dust myself off and get back to working.

Have you ever considered what you would do in certain life/death sitches? Sometimes. My game plan for the most part is to simply scream at the top of my lungs to rouse attention, but I’ll never really know what I’ll do unless something actually takes place. I have a track record of being scared frozen when scary men have approached me in the past, so idk if I will have it in me to scream in a life or death situation.

Have you ever gone mud riding? No. Photos don’t look too appealing mostly because I’m not into vehicles and driving them on unconventional terrain lol, but I mean I would still give it a shot at least once.

Do you edit your photos? Just sometimes, if I mean to show off or promote someone/something to my mutuals; like the time I promoted my uncle’s business when he gave me a free cheesecake. I usually use the VSCO or Foodie apps.

What kind of cookie do you like the most? Chocolate chip cookies that are crispy on the outside and gooey inside; and dark chocolate macadamia cookies.

Do you enjoy working alone? Sure, though I don’t mind the occasional groupwork.

Is there anyone you're not over and feel like you never will be? Yes, I’m in exactly the same place I found myself at five years ago.

Do you like long or short surveys? Medium-length, so like anywhere between 40-70 questions is the perfect length for me.

How often do you listen to your iPod? I used to listen to it everyday because I brought it with me throughout middle school and the first half of high school. When iPods slowly went out of style in junior year, I started using it less frequently.

What kind of house do you want? Something modern and minimalist; I’d like it to be predominantly rectangular or square in shape with large windows. I do also want a brutalist style for myself but I might have to give that up if I ever end up with a family, as I don’t want my kids thinking their own home looks aloof and unapproachable.

Would you like living on the coast? It sounds like paradise. Yeah, absolutely.

What song was the last you listened to? To Let A Good Thing Die - Bruno Major. Then I got really sad and had to stop listening to music altogether and scramble to watch something hilarious on YouTube.

When's the last time you were really late to something? Last week, for a meeting with a client :/ I wasn’t accustomed to my weekly calls just yet and ended up attending a 4:30-5 PM meeting at 4:57, right when it was ending, because I thought it started at 5. It was embarrassing and my manager was rightfully jokingly mad at me.

Do you prefer to take back roads or the highways? Highways as much as possible, but if I’m stuck in traffic and if it looks like I wouldn’t be able to get to my destination on time then I ask Waze to guide me through backroads.

How do you spell your name without consonants? Rbyn or Rbn, depending on what you consider y to be.

What's the last movie you watched? Uhhh it was still That Thing Called Tadhana but it’s been a while. I mainly watch a Korean drama titled Start Up these days.

What would you like your generation to change? The people society votes into office. Young Americans seem to be leading the charge on this front, which is so so great. Meanwhile in my country Manny Pacquiao is planning for his 2022 presidential campaign and we are once again fucked because voter’s literacy is so fucking low that I actually see a possibility of him winning. Migrating has never sounded more attractive.

Do you use your cell phone a lot? Yeah, it’s beside me with the screen turned on nearly the entire day.

When's the last time you saw an ocean wave? Not sure about an ocean wave, but the last time I saw a wave in general (we were at a beach) was August 2019.

How long can you hold your breath? Maybe a minute max? I haven’t had to try in a while.

Would you rather work behind the scenes or be the star? Behind the scenes. I loathe the spotlight and I’ve never been the performing type, and I always hated it whenever I’ve had to perform in school or for a family function. It’s also why, as fun as hosting looks like as a career, and as much as I know I would’ve been decent in it if I tried, it was just ultimately never the path for me.

Are you a sore loser? Yeah, I hate it. I’m competitive to the bone, which personally sucks too because it’s hard for me to enjoy games lol. I make it easier for the playing crowd by just watching at the sidelines so that I don’t ruin things for them.

When's the last time you used a pair of scissors? Yesterday when I was doing embroidery.

What was the last word you thought? I mean...’embroidery,’ I guess, since I typed it last before reading this question.

Is it easy to make you angry? It takes me a while to explode.

Have you wondered if other people wonder what you’re thinking? No.

Do you sing a lot? When I’m alone and am certain no one can hear, yes.

Do you think you have an addictive personality? Uh no, not really. I like keeping a certain distance with everyone I interact with. As nice as I can be, I try to make sure my personality isn’t the type that would ~leave people wanting more~ so to speak.

Which affects us more: our genes or the environment in which we're raised? For me, it’s the environment. Genes are strong too, but they’re already there; they’re given, they’re constant, they’re wired into each person. The fact that people can still be constantly affected depending on what kind of situation they’re in says much about the capabilities of being raised in a certain environment. For instance, I know for sure I would’ve ended up being more emotionally stable if I was provided with a healthier, gentler upbringing.

Why do you believe that? Oops, I may have already answered it above.

Honestly, do you enjoy arguing? Nah. Watching others do it can be fun, but I avoid them myself.

Do you prefer to use tape or glue? Tape. More secure.

Do you see routine as a comfort or a rut? Comfort. I do like bursts of spontaneity every now and then, though.

When's the last time you cried? Last night. I wanted to this morning, but I already did so much heavy crying last night that I just gave myself a break today.

Do you believe that love can get you through anything? No. I know that now.

What do you wish you had more of? Money is always a good answer. Also, weekends.

If you HAD to change one thing about your best friend, what would it be? I wish Angela lived nearer, so that it’s easier to visit. I wish Gabie wasn’t so selfish.

Have you ever gone to sleep mad? It’s harder that way, lol. But I mean yeah I guess I’ve felt angry while trying to go to bed; it’s just that I usually use certain outlets so that I could calm down and fall asleep more easily.

Do you like your computer? I love it. Even though it’s an older Macbook Air I have no plans to replace it; it’s still so low-maintenance and reliable after all this time.

Which theory do you wish but perhaps not believe was true about afterlife? This is a good question and something I always wish was verbalized more. For me, it’s the idea of reuniting with all your deceased family, friends, and pets in death. That has always given me comfort, but I don’t necessarily cling to it.

Is there anyone that you truly could not live without? I can think of one such person, but we’ll see if it holds true.

#survey #surveys

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mi6-cafe · 3 years

Photo

THE DRABBLES ARE IN! COME READ THEM AND VOTE!

GUYS, WE HAVE 15 AWESOME DRABBLES FOR YOU!

Our writers did an excellent job. All of them wrote 100-word drabbles based on this picture:

READ THEM ALL BELOW THE LINE AND WHEN YOU’VE PICKED YOUR TOP THREE FAVOURITES COME >>VOTE HERE<<

But how do?

anyone can vote (read the fics, pick your top 3 favourites and put that in the google form)

yes, even the writers can vote (they should, however, vote for someone other than themselves)

please, while you vote: also give anonymous feedback to the drabbles. we will send this to the writers after voting ends

why you should give feedback to the writers: we and they will love you forever but it won’t be creepy because you’ll be anonymous

READ&VOTE UNTIL SUNDAY 11.59PM Eastern, 4:59AM UTC!

Now, here are the drabbles!

Title: Arson Author: artsytarts / Misha Warnings: None

Summary: If there is one talent James Bond has, it’s to give his Quartermaster a headache.

“Can I ask you a question, 007?”

“Not like you’d respect my wishes if I said no, Q. Go ahead.”

“Why is it that you always, without fail, find some way to cause an explosion? I’m starting to believe you have an arsonist streak.”

“I don’t do it on purpose, it just… happens.”

“You do know that you’re supposed to keep things quiet, right? ‘Secret’. It’s in the job description.”

“Not my fault their base lay beneath a firework factory.”

“Wouldn’t have been a problem if you didn’t blow it up!”

“Debatable.”

“I’m sure you mean ‘yes, Q’.”

“Yes, Q.”

Title: Occupational Hazards Author: storm-of-sharp-things Warnings: none Summary: Q would willingly pay extra for the option to have a boring vacation…

Q sat back against James in the little rowboat and stared across the lake as bright jets of sparks shot up from the island. The fiery glow amid the trees was beautiful in the reflection of the dark water. James settled the blanket more comfortably around them, keeping the chill off their bare skin.

“I liked that cabin,” Q finally said.

James sighed. “What’s the probability that our rental cabin would be a hidden entrance to a secret arsenal of explosives?”

With a splash, Alec finally surfaced next to the boat, grinning wickedly.

Q scowled. “One hundred percent, I’d say.”

Title: Postcard Author: sunaddicted Warnings: none Summary: Bond stops in the middle of a mission for a view Q shouldn’t absolutely miss.

“Bond, stop dallying”

“Look, Q”

He sighed, squinting at the screen broadcasting the grainy images coming from the small camera that he had managed to disguise as a lapel pin “What exactly am I looking at?”

“Wait for it”

“Bond, need I to remind you that you’re on- Oh”

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Q was enraptured in the blue fire shooting up towards the dark of night: he couldn’t remember the last time he had looked up at the sky, eyes full of awe “Yes, it really is” he admitted “Thank you, James. Move along now: your contact is waiting”

“Yessir”

Title:Flare Author: Hexiva Warnings: Angst Summary: Alec and James on a stakeout. One moment of hope.

What James remembers from that night in Canada is the fireworks. Fireworks reflecting off the lake as he sat in the dark waiting for morning when their target would walk by. Fireworks reflecting in Alec’s eyes, a manic gleam as he leaned in to adjust Bond’s hand on his rifle. And in the darkness between displays, they looked at each other, the instruments of their bloody work forgotten.

Years later, after everything, after the betrayal, James doesn’t remember who reached out first. All he remembers is the sound of fireworks as they kissed, clinging to each other in the darkness.

Title: Rest & Relaxation Author: SouffleGirl91 Warnings: None Summary: James and Q kiss goodbye to yet another security deposit.

“This was fun. We should do it more often.”

James watched an explosion illuminate the sky, showering white sparks on the carnage below.

“Did you hit your head?”

“What?” Q frowned. “No! Why?”

“You want to do this-” James gestured at the flames, “more often?”

Another loud crack, and the cabin roof collapsed, sending up a plume of smoke.

“Well, maybe not the part where your ex-boyfriend tries to burn us to death in our sleep…”

“So just the murder, then?”

“Pillock.”

James laughed. “If this is what holidays with you are like, I’d love to do it more often.”

Title: Efficiency Author: Anyawen Warnings: None Summary: Bond appreciates competence, whatever it wears.

James ignores the cold of the Canadian spring night, attention focused on the far side of the lake.

“I can get closer,” he offers quietly over comms.

“Stay where you are, Bond. I’ve got this,” Q answers.

Q’s frenzied typing stills, and James hears satisfaction in the silence a moment before an explosion rocks the lodge. He watches, bemused, as stray fireworks streak into the sky.

“The security on their firework storage facility needs work,” Q remarks dryly before utterly failing to stifle a yawn.

Another firework explodes, illuminating James’ fond smile.

“Not bad for a man in his pyjamas.”

Title: Isle of Bond Author: Warnings: none Summary: No man is an island.

They say, “no man is an island,” and they’re right.

Bond would disagree; would claim the title for himself.

He would say that he is a man for himself, as he trusts his life in the hands of friends. He would build a fortress of solitude, only to fly from it in a blaze of glory. He would fence his heart with spikes, spark, smirks, and sex. Until someone is unafraid to get stung.

Bond would lay life, death, heart, and gun at the feet of true love.

“They say, no man is an island, and they’re right,” Bond says.

Title: forget the past Author: scarytheory Warnings: none Summary: In the woods, in the middle of the night, two friends are trying to make peace with everything.

“This is ridiculous,” says Q, looking at Moneypenny. “It’s not New Year’s. Also, do you know how harmful it is to animals?”

She gives him the side-eye: “Your complaining already scared everything within ten miles of here. And it’s symbolic, actually. Because he’s not coming back, not to me, not to you. We need to start over, with a bang. Help me set this off.”

With a sigh, he does.

And here they are, watching fireworks in the middle of March, both feeling lost.

But as she slips her hand in his, he thinks that maybe they will be alright.

Title: Inferno Author: oldestcharm Warnings: fire Summary: Q appreciates the scenery. Bond isn’t pleased.

Q’s eyes are glued to the live feed from the helicopter. “This is very scenic,” he comments. Bond huffs. “Are you talking about the forest fire, the flare guns, or the volcano that’s about to burst now that I obliterated this guy’s lair?” Q hums, considering. “All of the above.” “I’m pleased to know you care so much for my safety.” “You’re just fine, 007,” Q assures him. “I’m standing in the middle of burning debris,” Bond points out. “There is a lake right beside you. Grab a bucket.” “You didn’t equip me with a bucket.” “Maybe next time then.”

#10

Title: Birthday Celebration Author: Nana-41175 Warnings: n/a Summary: Q is gifted with spectacular fireworks for his birthday by Bond

Q was sure he would dislike camping. He did not feel kindly toward the idea of a million insects descending upon him while they roughed it out in the woods. Plus, no internet. Hideous.

But he liked fireworks at dusk, especially when viewed over water. He was touched that Bond wanted him to see this: the lake, the dark circle of trees surrounding the warm, cheery glow of a campfire, the slender strands of bright light as they shot up toward the night sky.

Most of all he adored being in Bond’s arms as his boyfriend whispered, “Happy birthday, darling.”

#11

Title: In the End Author: Venstar Warnings: none Summary: One last goodbye.

Bond stared as the island of Mr. White burned away in a final fiery glow. So many things had been set in place there. Thoughts of Vesper slid through his mind, like a dark oil slick on water. Never to truly be erased. He felt something slide into his hand. A weapon. Something strong and flexible. He squeezed and felt bones move. Q. Something else that had been set in place. A gift, from one madman to another. Silva’s little cogwheel in the bigger scheme of things had inadvertently delivered Q to MI6…and James. He kissed those fingers. His weapon.

#12

Title: Miscalculation Author: Merc/moon_of_mercury Warnings: none Summary: Bond makes a strategic mistake. Q improvises to save the day.

“Gorgeous, aren’t they?”

“No, not really. They’re an unnecessary waste of money, spread heavy metals and other contaminants in the environment, cause noise pollution, not to mention the stress to animals and people who don’t like them–”

“Alright! Fine. I should have asked you first.”

“Or used your head for once. I told you; the cats and I are a package deal. If you plan for me you plan for them. I’m not having fun when my darlings are terrified.”

Before the mood sours, Q pulls James into a kiss.

“But we can always stay in. I’ll show you fireworks.”

#13

Title: How Does He Do That? Author: IrishWitch58 Warnings: Things blowing up, Canon typical violence, 006 and explody stuff Summary: Bond and Q watching the end of a 006 mission

Bond watched intently as Q focused on the terse commentary from the extraction team. Trust 006 to find one of the few primary forests left in Europe to play hide and seek with terrorists. Injured, bleeding but in possession of valued intel he’d been sent after, Trevelyan was being sought by both sides. One of the drone cameras blazed with light, flaring streamers rising from a central explosion. Q blinked, eyes watering before the screen dimmed.

“How does he do that every bloody time? I never issued him any explosives.”

Bond just shrugged, grinning. “When has that ever stopped Alec?”

#14

Title: Beacon Author: solarmorrigan Warnings: None Summary: Q is very good at reading even the smallest signs.

“Come on,” Q murmured.

Images flashed by on his screens: satellite feeds, CCTV stills, personal security system hacks, social media posts – anything he could think of. Windows overlapped, flashed, jockeyed for space and called for attention as new information poured in. Then, at last, a filter-covered photograph from one website or another, a tiny island lit up by a few explosive columns of light, drew Q’s notice.

Unexpected fireworks off the coast, the caption read.

Q checked the location. He checked the time. He smiled.

“There you are,” he sighed, and began the work of piecing together Bond’s trail.

#15

Title: We Don’t Need Fireworks Author: MrKsan / starrboned Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence Summary: Bond makes things explode. Q watches from afar.

The skies were ablaze with stardust and fire. It could’ve been beautiful, Q thought, had it not been his job to clean up the mess after.

Damn Bond and his dramatics.

Footsteps approached from behind, and Q couldn’t help but smile as an arm looped around his waist.

“007,” Gareth sighed. Q snorted, leaning into the warmth. Something exploded in the distance.

“Wish you could join him?” Gareth asked. “Share the action?”

Q turned his head, watching the fireworks reflect in his eyes.

“I got all the fire I need right here,” Q smiled, and leaned in for a kiss.

Go vote!

#LDWS #LDWS2021 #ldws drabble #james bond fanfiction #drabbles #signal boost

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flowerpowell · 5 years

Text

Until You Hate Me (Liam x MC)

PART ONE - THE DEAL

A/N: I am so nervous posting this since Liam is not my LI and I might accidently mess everything up. This series is an AU and doesnt follow canon at all. I dont know what else to say, I’m going to hide somewhere once I post it lol but if liked it please make sure to leave some feedback cause it makes my day! Characters belong to Pixelberry!

Rating: G

Word count: 2430

Taglist: @gardeningourmet @delightfullypinkglitter @brightpinkpeppercorn @hopefulmoonobject @blackcatkita @cora-nova @client-327 @desiree-0816 @jared2612 @princess-geek @emichelle @ao719 @badchoicesposts @sunandlemons @cordoniantrash @kinggliam @needalittlerain @flyawayboo @nazariortega @jlpplays1 @kimmiedoo5 ♥

(((please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list! I’m well aware most of my perma tag are Drake stans so if you dont want to read a Liam series just tell me and I’ll remove you from this series’ taglist!)))

Regina spat with contempt when she looked around the bar she just walked in. She was sure that if she caught any bacteria or virus here, Liam would be to blame. It was his idea after all.

When her step son was choosing the table for them, Regina was reminiscing about the circumstances that led to this ridiculous situation.

When Constantine died suddenly, Liam had to be coronated quickly but the rules were clear – he needed to have a wife or at least be engaged by that time. The coronation was in two months and Liam still hadn’t chosen his bride. None of the noble ladies that Regina introduced to him were ‘good enough’ for him.

“Liam, I beg you. You need to choose one of them before your coronation! I’ve just sent lady Penelope home, she was the last suitor left!”

“Regina... I told you I wanted to marry for love. All of the ladies are truly amazing but they are not for me.”

“How about lady Olivia? Maybe we can ask her again?”

“She’s a good friend of mine but that’s all.”

Regina sighed. “Liam, I’m afraid there are not many noble ladies left in court. And my vote is still on lady Madeleine. She’s very well prepared to be a Queen and maybe you two will grow to love each other at some point.”

“Lady Madeleine would indeed make a good Queen but a terrible wife.”

“Liam, we ran out of suitors. You’ve sent them all home.”

“Maybe... maybe my wife doesn’t need to be a noble...”

“What?” Regina raised her eyebrows. “You want a commoner to be your wife, to be a Queen?”

Liam ran his hand through his hair, “My mother was a commoner too. And I just... don’t think status is important.”

“Well, you are wrong then.”

Liam shot her an annoyed look before straighting himself. “It was nice talking to you, Regina, but I won’t change my mind.” He bowed slightly before exiting and Regina rubbed her temples. That boy was giving her so much trouble.

“I think this table should do,” Liam extended his hand to Regina and led her to the table he chose. She grimaced as she sat down and took out a tissue to clean the table at least a little. She couldn’t believe she agreed for that. Today was the day she brought up the engagement topic again, a week after their last conversation. They were in New York for a business meeting, Liam as a future King and she still as a Queen, before Liam would be coronated. It was their last day here and Regina came up with a plan on how to make Liam marry a noble suitor.

“Liam, I have a proposition.”

“Hmm? About that deal with France?” He didn’t even raise his head.

“No, about your engagement,” she said and Liam turned to her.

“Regina, we talked about it and--”

“Let me finish. Let’s have a deal. You can choose a commoner that will catch your attention and if she agrees, we’ll teach her all about the Royal protocol and rules. If after six weeks, that is one week before the coronation, that woman will be well prepared to be a Queen, that is, will pass the test at the dinner with the whole Court and the press, you’ll be free to marry anyone you want. This will prove that you can indeed make a Queen out of anyone. However, if you fail, you’ll marry Madeleine. That’s the least I can agree on. We need to think about Cordonia first and foremost.”

Liam looked at Regina with an unreadable expression on his face. He knew it wasn’t a perfect deal but she was trying, at least. He closed his eyes and nodded.

“Okay. I—I think I can try.”

“Splendid!” Regina clasped her hands. “Once we get back to Cordonia I will find some ladies from good famil--”

“No.” Liam said firmly and Regina looked at him, surprised.

“But... You just agreed...”

“And I intend to keep the deal. But I’ll choose someone myself. And I’ll start today.”

“An American?! Liam, you can’t be serious!”

“I am. You said anyone so let’s have it. In fact, I’m heading out right now,” Liam closed his laptop and took his jacket. Without saying any more words, he opened the door and Regina quickly followed him.

“Liam, I don’t think anyone here knows what occupational safety and health is. This place is dangerous. Besides, it’s a waste of time, we’ve been looking for a suitor for you for hours and you still haven’t found anyone. Do you think you’ll find someone here?”

“Regina--”

“Hello! My name is Riley and I will your waitress for tonight. Are you ready to order?” A waitress showed up interrupting Liam.

“Yes, young lady. I would love filet mignon and a glass of your best red wine.”

“Umm, I don’t think we have it but we do have burgers and they’re really good too. And we do have wine, but I don’t think it fits your criteria.” Riley smiled apologetically.

“We’ll have burgers,” Liam interjected and smiled back at Riley.

“Sure! Can I get you something to drink?”

“Just water, please. But not tap water, or whatever you Americans drink.” Regina said without even looking at the waitress. Riley nodded and left the table.

“Regina! Can’t you be at least a little nicer?”

“What for? We’re in some obscure bar in New York City, about to eat burgers! And she’s just a waitress, she’s not gonna remember us tomorrow!”

“Well, you’re wrong because I’m choosing her,” Liam stated and Regina’s face fell.

“You’re not serious, Liam. She’s a waitress! And there is no chance she’ll agree to fly to Cordonia!”

“I can always ask her.”

“You don’t even know her! How can you choose her without knowing her at all?”

“I don’t know none of the Noble ladies either. I just... felt something.”

“You felt something!” Regina repeated, “This isn’t happening...”

“I’ll ask her after we eat.”

“No! I will do it. I will ask her, it will be more believeable.”

“If you insist,” Liam shrugged slightly, his eyes locked on the waitress pouring the water into the glasses. “Just don’t tell her about our deal.”

“Of course I won’t.”

---------

Riley was trying as hard as she could to keep her eyes open. She had been working for almost twelve hours straight, fifth day in a row. She couldn’t complain though. She asked for it herself as she really needed the money. The situation had never been more desperate.

“Brooks! Look where you’re going!” Her manager jumped back as she absent-mindedly bumped into him and spilled the water.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” She took a towel from under the counter and started wiping the floor.

“Excuse me.” She heard a voice and hit her head when trying to stand up.

“The burgers are almost ready,” she said, rubbing her head and trying to smile at the lady.

“No, I wanted to talk to you about something else. May I steal you for a minute?”

“Ughh, sure,” she threw a towel on the floor and led the lady to a room for staff only.

“I wanted to offer you a job. A well-paid job.”

“Yeah, thanks but I have a job,” Riley answered and opened the door to get out.

“I’m serious. I can offer at least a hundred thousand for six weeks.”

“A hundred... thousand? Dollars?” Riley asked confused. It felt like trap but she’d lie is she said she wasn’t interested.

“I wanted to say euros, but dollars can be as well.”

“If this is a joke then I am not laughing.”

“It’s not. I never joke.”

“Umm and... what I would supposed to do?”

“Here is the thing. I’m the Queen of a small country in Europe, Cordonia. My husband passed away a few weeks ago and now his son, Liam, who is here with me, will be crowned in less than two months. But the protocol clearly says he needs to be at least engaged before that. I found him suitable matches but he insist on courting someone... aside nobility.”

“Okay... And what do I have to do with it?” Riley asked confused.

“He saw something in you and chose you to be his suitor. Don’t ask me why, I don’t know. I know you probably know nothing about Cordonia and even less about being a Queen but my stepson is an idealist. I would pay you money for going to Cordonia with us and being his suitor for six weeks. Your job is to be the worst suitor the world has ever seen. I want you to make him hate the idea of marrying someone who’s not from nobility, make his teaching you so hard that he will never think of that again. You see,” Regina smiled at Riley, “Liam needs to marry someone who will make the best Queen. And I have a perfect match but he still lives in a fantasy.”

“Wait, stop.” Riley took a step back before looking at Regina. “You’re telling me that you are a Queen, Liam is about to be a King and you’ll pay me to be his awful girlfriend?”

“I would use different words but yes, that is somehow what I meant.”

“You’re sick. No offence but I’m not buying this.”

“Then google for yourself,” Regina took out her phone. Riley narrowed her eyes before taking her own phone and typing ‘Cordonia’ into Google. It didn’t take long before everything Regina said was confirmed by Wikipedia and other sources.

“I—I don’t know what to say and whatever game you two are playing I... I want to be out of this and please find someone else.” Riley wanted to leave the room but Regina grabbed her hand.

“I understand your confusion. I’d like this conversation to remain between the two of us only. Liam can’t know.” Riley nodded and Regina went on, “Here is my phone number should you change your mind. I assure you I was not joking and the offer was real. I’d have you sign a contract so everything would be legitimate. I can raise the pay to two hundred thousand if a hundred was unsatisfactory.”

“I need to think, I need... air.” Riley said and Regina nodded opening the door for her.

-------

After a few more hours, Riley was finally going back home. It was a long and weird day and Riley couldn’t stop thinking about the proposition she got. She needed money desperatly and pretending to be someone’s girlfriend, especially if that someone looked so good, didn’t seem like an awful job. But still, wasn’t it a little bit too low for her? Pretending to be the worst girlfriend, or suitor, wasn’t it a bit too mean?

“If it wasn’t my life I’d think I was in How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days,” she thought to herself when opening the door to her building.

“You’re finally here! Where’s my money?” Mr Johnson, a man who rented Riley an apartment jumped out of his office before Riley could even take a step.

“I told you I would pay you by the end of this month!”

“I’m done waiting! You keep repeating this but never pay me anything. I think I need to kick you out.”

“No, please, Mr Johnson, I will pay everyhing, I promise. This month has been a bit tough and I--”

“No excuses!” Mr Johnson yelled causing Riley to flinch. “You haven’t paid me in three months. I want your money. Now.”

“I... don’t have much. I only have twenty seven dollars at the moment but I need something to eat too--” She was cut off by the man yanking the money from Riley’s hands.

“That will do until tomorrow. Good night,” he said closing the door behind him. Riley bit her lip trying to suppress her tears.

She just walked into her small apartment when her phone rang.

“Jeremiah? Why are you calling me so late? You should be asleep!”

“I can’t sleep, Miss Riley! I overheard Mrs Dulay talking with someone about closing the Children’s Home and now I’m scared they will take me away from Sophia, Jack, Simon and Patricia!” Jeremiah was sobbing and Riley’s eyes widened.

“Closing the Children’s Home? I’m sure you heard something wrong! It will not be closed, okay? I promise.”

“O-okay. Will you visit us tomorrow Miss Riley?” He asked and Riley smiled involuntarily. She loved visiting the kids and Jeremiah was her favorite, maybe because he was so similar to her when she was his age. Any time she had some spare money she would take him, and his closest friends, for ice cream.

“I wish I could but I’m working. Another time, okay?”

“Okay,” she heard him sigh.

“Go to sleep, honey. It’s super late, you’ll be a zombie tomorrow!”

“Then I’ll eat your boss’s brain and you’ll come here!” Jeremiah said and Riley chuckled.

“Goodnight, Jeremiah!”

“Good night Miss Riley,” the boy said before the line went silent. She quickly messaged Mrs Dulay, who was also Riley’s closest friend.

“Is everything ok at the children’s home?”

Her phone beeped a few seconds later:

“How did you know? Jeremiah...? Ah, this boy! But no, it’s not going too well. There’s plenty of kids and not enough money to feed them all. Today I was told we might need to send the kids to other homes if we don’t ‘fix’ the situation.”

Riley felt the tears rolling down her cheeks. Why does everything has to be so hard?

“Got it. I wish I could help but yeah, I have no money -_-”

“Don’t worry, darling, we’ll figure somethig out.”

Riley fidgeted with her phone while considering her options. Maybe... it was a sign? Without thinking too much about it, she retrived a piece of paper with a phone number on it and typed a message.

“I agree but I need more specific instructions.”

The answer came almost immediately:

“Great! The Royal jet leaves at 6. Don’t be late.”

#the royal romance #the royal heir #king liam #king liam x mc #king liam x riley #liam x mc #liam x riley #trr liam #trr king liam #choices #liam rys #king liam rys #liam rys x mc #I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO TAG THIS HELP #playchoices #my fic

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thedreideldiaries · 5 years

Text

Hey, friends! I thought I’d take this opportunity to expound in my political choices a bit - specifically to give some context for my choice of Sanders over Warren. Note for a few of my followers who know me elsewhere: this is copied over from other social media, so if it sounds familiar that is why.

First, I want to reiterate that I like Warren. So, if anyone reading this is torn between her and any of the other clowns who have thrown their sorry hats into the ring, then please: do me and the rest of the world a favor, stop reading this right now, and go ahead and give Warren your vote. I won’t be mad. Promise. If you’re on the fence between Warren and Sanders, though, then I implore you to read on.

Okay, is it just us in here? Cool.

For my friends torn between Warren and Sanders (like I was at the beginning of the primary), I’ve tried to distill my reasoning. As you know, a lot of the discourse surrounding Warren’s campaign constructs her as a younger, female version of Sanders. If I believed that, I’d be solidly in her corner, but a few differences between them make this simply not the case. Here are the ones I find most salient:

1. Let’s look at Bernie’s base. As much as we love to talk about representation in politics, a candidate’s demographic background tells us nothing about who they’re going to fight for. Their voting base, on the other hand, tells you who has placed their confidence in that candidate’s promises.

A good proportion of Warren’s supporters are white college graduates (young and old).

By contrast Bernie’s base is overwhelmingly working class, non-white, urban, and, perhaps most tellingly, young. You could attribute that to naivete, but I think something else is going on here: the demographic group with the most to win or lose from this election are people under 30. We’re the ones who will have to live with the most devastating effects of climate change, and we’re tired of the so-called adults in our lives not taking that rather pressing concern seriously. We don’t care if our candidate is old or young - we care if they listen. Which brings me to:

2. The Youth. Young people in America are disillusioned with democracy - not because we’ve decided it’s not a good idea, but because we’ve literally never seen it in action. We live in a corporate plutocracy where the financial barriers to running for office have rendered most politicians ridiculously out of touch. And Sanders, more than any other candidate in the primary, knows how to talk to young people.

And look - I’m planning to vote for whoever wins the primary. But if 2016 is anything to go by, if the youth demographic doesn’t get a candidate they can get behind, they won’t vote strategically for the lesser of two evils. They’ll stay home, and given what the Democratic party has done for them over the past 20 or so years, I can’t say I blame them.

3. The same goes for his endorsements. I’d be out of my lane if I spent too much time talking about what Sanders wants to do for people of color, but I think it’s telling that Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, Rashida Tlaib, and Ilhan Omar - three politicians showing real determination to shake things up in Washington - all chose Bernie over Warren. I think it’s telling that AOC cited his campaign, not Warren’s, as her inspiration for running for office (if anyone’s a female Sanders, it’s not Warren - it’s AOC).

4. Sanders is, quite simply, the genuine article. He’s fought for important causes (climate justice, healthcare, workers’ rights) since long before they were cool. He’s *not* perfect, but criticisms of him rarely touch his political history.

Warren’s record of activism is, by contrast, unimpressive. She used to be a Republican corporate lawyer, and while I absolutely respect that someone can change their mind about politics, and I applaud her for doing so, it worries me that what changed her mind wasn’t the Iran-Contra scandal, or the AIDS crisis, or the brutal crushing of the labor movement. It was the realization that Republicans were doing capitalism wrong. I can’t exactly argue with that (show me a Republican politician who truly supports a free market and I’ll eat my beret*), but it doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence.

*This is a joke. I do not have a beret.

5. Warren’s a capitalist; Sanders is a democratic socialist, and I think the difference is important. Warren supports a wealth tax, and she wants everyone to have healthcare, and I appreciate that she has the guts to talk about those things on national television, but at the end of the day, she’s a proud capitalist who believes the system needs to be corrected, not overhauled.

Sanders is a self-professed democratic socialist, and has built a popular movement around that label. And honestly, I’m not too worried about redbaiting. Yes, it’s a common Republican tactic, but the sentiment of “yes I would vote for Democrats but not for Socialist democrats” is a rare one, if it exists at all. And if it works against any of the primary candidates, it’ll work against all of them. They used anti-Commmunist rhetoric against Obama, for goodness’ sake. Look how much of an advocate for the working class he turned out to be.

Courting the centrist vote is a waste of time. Tiptoeing around conservatives alienates left-wingers and doesn’t actually sway Republicans. It’s a bad move strategically, in that it makes us look like cowards, and morally, because it means not getting very important things done.

Sanders doesn’t want to play the game better. He wants to start a whole new game. Warren’s economics platform seems to boil down to “50s but less racist,” and while that sounds nice, it’s just not possible. We can’t go back there - we have automation now, not to mention a global economy the likes of which we barely dreamed of in the 1950s, and it’s not realistic to try to make that happen again. We need something new.

6. People over party. In a lot of ways, Warren reminds me of the best parts of The West Wing. I like that show, but it was a comforting fantasy - a vision of what the Democratic Party could have been like with a little more gumption and a lot more luck. It never happened because the Democratic party and politics aren’t like that in real life. I have confidence in Sanders because his loyalty isn’t to the Democratic Party. It’s to the American people. He’s proved that over and over again over the course of his political career.

7. Bernie is an organizer. The “not me - us” slogan is very telling. Democracy is participatory. We don’t just need a candidate with a plan to fix everything. We need a candidate with a plan who acknowledges that the people hold the real power. We need a candidate who respects the will of the people and inspires them to get involved. We can’t win this election and stop thinking about politics. We never get to stop thinking about politics. We need someone who can inspire people to keep fighting.

The heart attack was a big deal, but the truth is, it’s never been about Bernie as an individual. His immediate reaction after getting out of the hospital was “I’m lucky to have healthcare; everyone should have healthcare; let’s get back to work.” That, more than anything, has given me the confidence that Bernie wants his policies to last long after he’s gone.

Also, people regularly have heart attacks and live another several decades. This is *literally* why we have vice presidents. If Sanders can get elected and pick a good VP and a cabinet (plus, you know, fill any Supreme Court vacancies that happen to arise over his tenure), his health won’t matter as much, because we don’t need a messiah right now. We need a resurgence of participatory democracy. We need more AOCs to take the stage. We need young people at the polls, not just in 2020, but beyond that.

8. I don’t like to talk about electability for a couple of reasons. One: centrists love to bring it up, usually in the service of talking about how policies they have zero stake in will never work. Two: Trump was supposed to be unelectable, and we all saw how that turned out.

That said: Warren’s currently polling third, which is not a great place to be. And while I don’t share some people’s cynicism about Warren, I have to agree that her response to Trump’s attacks has not impressed me. I’m confident that if Trump attacks Sanders, Bernie won’t take the bait, because he’s so on-message you can’t get him off-message. Like I said: he had a heart attack and immediately spun it back into the healthcare conversation.

And the polls are clear: head to head, Sanders beats Trump. Warren’s chances are far dicier.

9. And the most important issue, without which nothing else really matters: the climate crisis. I’d love it if we could wait for the country’s ideas to catch up to Sanders’ socialist rhetoric, but the truth is we are running out of time. I’m voting for Sanders because I have two nieces under 5 years old and a nephew who was just born, and I want them to grow up on a habitable planet, and they won’t get a chance to vote on that. I’m doing it because I want to have kids of my own someday, and while I absolutely respect the choice of anyone deciding to reproduce right now, I don’t have the emotional energy to raise a family during an apocalypse. And while I like Warren, and she’s expressed support for a Green New Deal, Sanders is the only candidate I trust to both beat Trump in the general and put his foot down to the DNC and their ilk.

10. Foreign policy!

First of all: guess who else hates American Imperialism? That’s right; it’s Bernie Sanders. Significantly, he has the guts to bring up America’s habit of meddling in Latin America’s democratically elected governments, which is something you pretty much never hear about from pretty much any other candidate.

https://www.vox.com/2019/6/25/18744458/bernie-sanders-endless-wars-foreign-affairs-op-ed

Foreign policy came up a lot during 2016 primary, with Clinton’s supporters trotting out the bizarre argument that a long history of hawkish policies is better than no policies at all. What with all that, I was surprised to learn that Sanders is actually quite well-traveled and has a long history of trying to mend fences between the U.S. and other world powers: https://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2016/02/bernie-sanders-foreign-policy/470019/

When it comes to climate change and foreign policy, Sanders acknowledges not only that it requires innovation (let’s not forget his early and vehement support for the Green New Deal), but also international cooperation. From the link below:

“To both Sanders and his supporters around the world, it is impossible to fight climate change without international cooperation. To that end, a group called the Progressive International was announced at a convention last year held by the Sanders Institute, a think tank founded by the presidential contender’s wife and son.

“The network of left-wing politicians and activists hopes to fight against "the global war being waged against workers, against our environment, against democracy, against decency,” according to its website.”

He’s also popular with left-wing leaders around the world, and it’s those kinds of politicians who we need to get us out of the climate crisis.

https://www.politico.com/story/2019/04/04/bernie-sanders-global-popularity-1254929

And finally, to stray briefly into comparison: again, I like Warren, but even so, I like her better domestically than internationally. The progressivism she touts at home comes up short abroad. I’m sure you’ve heard about it already, but I think it’s worth remembering that Warren voted for Trump’s military budget in 2017; Sanders didn’t. She talks a lot about peace, but her history on foreign issues looks pretty similar to that of other centrist democrats. This is a problem not only in terms of American Imperialism, but also because the U.S. military is one of the world’s leading causes of climate change. Her voting history and her cozy relationship with defense contractors have me pretty worried. This article goes into more detail about her history with various foreign powers as well as her general attitudes on American imperialism:

https://jacobinmag.com/2019/05/elizabeth-warren-foreign-policy

We all pretty much knew what we were getting with Clinton. Warren worries me not only because she seems to align with the rest of the party on our endless foreign wars, but because she keeps her support for the military-industrial complex behind a facade of progressive rhetoric that reminds me of the early Obama years. We can’t be let down like that again. Even if we ignore the devastating human cost, the planet doesn’t have time.

Further Reading - obviously I don’t agree with everything in every one of these pieces, but they offer a leftist critique that often goes missing from other, more superficial problems people bring up about Warren.

The polling bases of the primary candidates: https://www.people-press.org/2019/08/16/most-democrats-are-excited-by-several-2020-candidates-not-just-their-top-choice/pp_2019-08-16_2020-democratic-candidates_0-06/?fbclid=IwAR2G8np2q9N4P6DArdI-gPhA5Wp_SYDZPKQDpDhxVZ4YbwnAEmFd65swMOA

An interesting take on Warren’s policies vs Bernie’s movement: https://jacobinmag.com/2019/04/elizabeth-warren-policy-bernie-sanders-presidential-primary?fbclid=IwAR14wWjYDNuNMrXN7YjVFFFHXmoMWKpDVqBcbPBlQUUrA354iIyRAbKXG30

An opinion piece on the contrast between them:

https://www.jacobinmag.com/2019/08/bernie-sanders-elizabeth-warren-democratic-party-elite-2020-presidential-race?fbclid=IwAR3vA54QveM2cCTxQ2BbVXh_IICgTxweKVBLMRjhSFyyAdspnibJ50seDjY

Another one:

https://forward.com/opinion/432561/the-case-for-bernie-sanders-the-only-real-progressive-in-the-race-sorry/?fbclid=IwAR1vwONZ7azJQcoeo_KYNYiJ8ekzHhJsZ4Ms0UzDHI59j7Q6oio-5uJOGcI

Warren’s political history:

More about that from a different source:

https://www.currentaffairs.org/2019/10/why-criticize-warren?fbclid=IwAR0NTP0cRbSnr-a6HCuxE-4SCJZEqU2EAL1Gnx70FME-9UMBg-xYE5t7g7Y

A prequel to the former (beware - this one’s scathing as heck):

https://www.currentaffairs.org/2019/09/the-prospect-of-an-elizabeth-warren-nomination-should-be-very-worrying?fbclid=IwAR03d5I5j72s4kQC9wgRSrXnbmWsp_9HUvRWBZwzcfsT9RsZP-lSAX4aPz0

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